


X Marks the Spot (where I'll find you again)

by PrettyThief



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Golden Age of Piracy, Reunions, There Was Only One Bedroll, brienne mothering pod, cersei's terrible attempts at villainy, jaime is definitely the miss piggy of this relationship, more muppets treasure island than treasure island, now with one hundred percent more talking parrot, pirates for JUSTICE, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25770934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyThief/pseuds/PrettyThief
Summary: "I can't," she had told him those long years ago. "My place is here." With little left to say, Jaime had walked away from the Royal Navy and out of Brienne's life for what she had thought would be forever. But then there he had been, silver hook raised in a wave from aboard the famed pirate ship, The Lion's Paw.A very wistful, somewhat silly golden age of piracy AU.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 108
Kudos: 148
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange 2020





	1. Brienne I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrioritiesSorted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrioritiesSorted/gifts).



> For PrioritiesSorted, who requested a golden age of piracy AU where one or both of them are pirates.
> 
> Thank you to the sprinters and other friends for helping me get this done. In particular, thank you to my on-and-off beta, [brynnmck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brynnmck/pseuds/brynnmck), who took time away from writing her own exchange fic to read over various parts of this and also listen to me rant and complain and wring my hands. All of you are wonderful!

_You walk along the stream_  
_Your head caught in a waking dream_  
_Your protector's coming home_

-

“Do you know why they calls ‘em _the Whispers_ , lad?” an old man was saying to a washer boy collecting dishes from the man’s table.

The boy bit his lip and his large, dark eyes darted around the room, clearly hoping someone else might answer or intervene. “Well, b-because they—”

“Because o’ Clarence Crabb!” the man bellowed enthusiastically, slamming the tankard in his hand down on the rickety table and grinning a wide, snaggle-toothed grin.

The boy shifted his gaze quickly to the ground as he stacked the dishes into the wooden tub he carried. The tale was clearly one he had heard before. And indeed, so had Brienne. Some tales never died, and Clarence Crabb’s long-lost treasure was one of them.

Some of the patrons in the dimly lit inn turned their heads to stare at the gray-maned man in the corner table. He was clearly on his way to well and truly drunk, and likely to become a nuisance before long. Brienne hoped the innkeep, wherever he was, would cut him off before things got rowdy. Nightfall had crept up on her and she was already tired. To her mild disappoint, the man eyed his audience excitedly and Brienne resolved to drink her cider a little more quickly.

“A true pirate’s pirate, he was! Stood eight feet tall and mean as a viper. He’d sink any ship, loot any outpost, and cross swords with any man!”

“Er, Ser Dick, Ser—” said the boy, balancing his washing tub on one arm, “do you think maybe y-y-you’ve had enough?”

“They’ve not heard the full tale yet, Pod!” He mussed the boy’s hair and drained the rest of the amber liquid in his tankard. “He was family, you know! My father’s cousin’s uncle! That’s right, Nimble Dick Crabb at your service, how d’you do!”

Brienne arched an eyebrow but said nothing. The old drunk would hardly be the first to claim some tenuous link to an infamous buccaneer. She had been sent to the Whispers by order of His Royal Majesty to root out rumors of piracy. For nearly a decade, she’d been a pirate-catcher for the Royal Navy and her experience told her this Nimble Dick character was rather suspicious. Even still, her heart had not been in her work since Jaime had left.

They had been a part of the same crew for six years, the majority of that time fraught. How they had bickered, jabbed, and fought in those early years! But following a failed mission in the Riverlands, they’d formed some sort of alliance; a kinship she would never have asked for, nor expected. But at some point along the way it had become second nature for each of them to seek the other out. Jaime had grown more and more cynical about the navy until eventually he’d told her he was leaving and she should come with him.

In her quietest moments, Brienne found herself wishing desperately that she had agreed. But she’d been even more stubborn then than she was now. She had let him go, and gone he had—without a proper goodbye in the middle of the night. For months she dreamed of the look of hurt on his face at her rejection, of his retreating back. She imagined that it was the last she’d ever see of the man with whom she’d become so inexplicably entwined. Then she’d found him captaining _The Lion’s Paw_ , a pirate ship that had quickly earned a formidable reputation.

For the last four years, no matter how often she was assigned to his capture, she seemed incapable of doing anything but letting him go. Just as she had when he’d walked away from her. It was to be their fate, it seemed.

At his corner table, Nimble Dick carried on loudly with his tale of buried treasure, explaining the origin of the name of the old coastal town they found themselves in. It was a new expansion of the legend that Brienne had not yet heard. According to Dick, Clarence Crabb had kept the heads of every man whose life he had stolen and buried them there in his hometown. As if by magic, a tree would grow up in no time at all where the head was planted. And, he carried on in a low and lurid rasp, if a person listened just right at the right time of night, the trees themselves would whisper directions to the lost treasure in the voices of those dead men.And then Dick guffawed, slamming his tankard down rapidly in time with the rolls of his laughter.

Brienne sighed silently and stood to take her leave of the dining room. Her eyes landed on the washer boy, a mousy wisp of a lad who darted around the room collecting empty dishes and occasionally pouring refills.

She gave him a small smile as he approached her to take away her plate and empty cider cup. She thanked him as he worked wordlessly and reached into the pocket of her trousers to dig out a coin. When Brienne planted it into his palm his eyes went wide as saucers.

“Th-th-thank you, Ser!” he stammered in an excited whisper, turning the coin over and over as though he had never seen a gold piece before. Brienne felt it was the least she could do for having to put up with hearing the same drunken stories every night.

“What’s your name?”

“P-P-Podrick, Ser.”

“Do you know him?” She inclined her head toward Dick Crabb, who had now broken into a sea shanty that seemed to be about venereal disease.

Podrick grimaced. “He owns the inn. Took me in when my m-m-mother left, and my father died in the war.”

Brienne’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. The innkeep drinking his own supply with his customers while his orphan ward kept the place running seemed … not especially surprising, when she thought about it. But it still struck a chord with her.

She wished the lad good night and was about to take her leave of the dining room when raised voices outside the tavern caught her attention. Her palm immediately found the lion’s head hilt of her sword. When she spun around, she could see swinging lanterns outside the near-opaque windows, and they seemed to be marching their way.

“Do you have a room with a lock?” she asked Podrick, not moving her eyes from the door.

Pod squeaked that yes, he did, and Brienne told him firmly to get into it, take a dagger, and not to come back out until she’d told him it was safe. When he was gone, Brienne drew her sword and flipped over the table she had just vacated, creating a barrier. The other occupants began to stand and unsheathe their own swords and daggers and in one case a pistol. The sight of it almost made Brienne smile. She could hear Jaime’s laughing voice: _a pistol is a coward’s weapon and horribly inaccurate._ Would that he were with her.

All eyes were on the door, except for Dick Crabb’s, who was still seated and staring off at nothing with an ashen face. She glared at him, annoyed by his sudden immobility in his own establishment. But the door soon shook on its hinges in time with the booming knock coming from the other side. Brienne gripped her sword tightly, ready for anything.

“Nimble Dick!” sing-songed a harsh voice on the other side. “Nimble Dick Crabb better open this door before it’s knocked straight down!”

Dick Crabb had shrank into his chair, somehow seeming smaller and older and more fragile than he had just moments earlier. The half-dozen patrons of the inn suddenly seemed to Brienne to not be patrons at all. One even wore an eyepatch, which really should have been her giveaway. She mused that the disillusionment with her chosen profession must really be catching up to her, if she could not pick an obvious pirate out of a crows anymore.

Sighing at her inattention, Brienne refocused back on the door just in time to see it actually bust down with an awful resounding boom. Another half dozen pirates streamed through the door, shouting their usual nonsense and gibberish like battle cries.

Blades clanged against one another and the pistol fired. (It missed, as usual, only succeeding sending shards of wood flying where the bullet impacted the wall) The floorboards creaked and ale sloshed across the furniture. A window shattered and men screamed. Lanterns swung precariously all along the rafters and the air was sour with sweat and filth.

“The black spot!” someone shouted above the din. “Deliver ’im the black spot!”

The pirate who appeared to be the ringleader, a huge beast of a man, brought his longsword crashing down from over his head onto the nearest patron. “Already gave him the spot,” he growled.

Brienne straightened from having just fended off a pair of the attacking pirates. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her arm and allowed her eyes to rest upon Dick Crabb. He was standing in the corner with a sword in hand and furniture littered all around him. He looked tired, and despite her reservations about the man, she felt her heart twinge for him.

“Off with his head!” shouted a scrawnier pirate, waving his sword in the air with a horrifying red grin, presumably stained from sourleaf.

As the handful of pirates left began to advance toward the corner with Brienne and one of Crabb's men hot on their heels, the hulking mountain of a man knocked a low-hanging lantern with his head, sending it to shatter on the ground. The ale-soaked floorboards caught fire instantly. Brienne’s immediate thought was of the inn boy, locked away in one of the back rooms.

She dipped her sword into its scabbard and turned with a mind to begin throwing open doors. But just as she did, the boy appeared at the edge of the dark halfway, his thin face cast with an odd orange glow in the firelight. As he crept along in the shadows, Brienne pivoted back toward the action. There were only two pirates left. The lanky one and the very large one. If she could distract them, Podrick stood a better chance at escaping.

She rolled her neck on her shoulders and wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her sword. But just as she was squaring herself to begin her attack, little Podrick leapt out of the shadows, launching himself onto the Mountain's back, arms wrapped around his neck. She watched in horror as the Mountain stumbled, trying to grasp at Podrick's arms as he did.

Before she could act, a flaming rafter crashed into the middle of the room. A wave of heat washed over her and she coughed, eyes watering. When she refocused, the Mountain was lying face-down on the floor, either dead or unconscious—Brienne could not be sure. She couldn’t be sure what exactly had happened; whether he’d been pierced by a weapon or taken a blow to the head or perhaps simply decided to lie down for a nap. The last remaining pirate headed for the door at the sight of his fallen leader, his mission apparently forgotten. The air in the room was thickening with smoke but she could still see Podrick crouching beside Nimble Dick.

They had to get out. _Now_.

When she reached the corner, Podrick was crying in muted sobs. Tears tracked down his dirty cheeks and collected on his chin. Dick was in much worse shape, grasping a wound in his abdomen that was slowly blooming red across his tunic. She had seen enough of battle and of death to know he wouldn't live no matter what she did, but the boy's doey eyes wordlessly pleaded with her. The least she could do was make sure he passed beneath the stars, perhaps with the distant sound of the sea in his ears. She couldn't understand piracy, but she knew what it meant to give your heart to the sea.

"Grab his feet, Podrick," she said gently. "We're all going outside."

The lad wiped harshly at his cheeks and gave her a stiff nod. He seemed to age fifteen years before her eyes. Where moments before there had been a child, Brienne saw before her a man grown. The sight only made her sad.

The inn was situated at the top of a winding path up from the shore. The roving light from a lighthouse situated just up the coast flooded the sandy hilltop the inn had been built upon generations earlier. It was a beautiful night to die, if such a night could truly exist.

"Clarence Crabb," Nimble Dick gasped, as though he had read her thoughts, when Brienne and Podrick had eased him into the grass a good distance from the flaming inn.

"It's alright, Dick," said Podrick with none of his usual timidity or stutter. "I remember how the story ends."

Brienne frowned down at him, wishing there was more she could do, feeling awful for not recognizing the warmth with which he regarded his young ward. He'd taken in an orphan boy and had apparently been kindly enough for the boy to mourn him before he was even gone.

Brienne wondered briefly if anyone might ever mourn her should some horrible fate befall her, too. Her thoughts flitted unbidden to Jaime. She had to grit her teeth and close her eyes to force the thought away. Jaime surely saw her as nothing but a rival now. The last time she had seen him he had been sailing away at breakneck speed, striking a comically debonair pose at the forecastle of his galley. Before he'd escaped her yet again, he'd lifted his hand up in goodbye and she'd lifted hers in return as though on a mummer’s string. But that did not _mean_ anything. Wouldn’t he see her dead and out of his way as soon as any other naval officer? The thought made her shiver unpleasantly so she pushed it away.

"It's not the story, boy. It's the—the map." Dick grimaced and seemed to go even paler.

"The map? We don't have to talk about that. Just r-r-rest."

"No, no." He slid one hand to Podrick's knee. "The map…"

The lad looked so troubled, worrying at his lip with a knitted brow. Nimble Dick was still whispering something, but Brienne could not discern what it was. Podrick bowed his head toward Dick's mouth and closed his eyes with intent concentration. Dick gripped Podrick's tunic with fingers as pale as the moonlight. Each word he spoke in the boy's ear seemed to sap a little more of his energy. She wondered what he must be saying.

After only a few seconds, the old man's hand slipped from Podrock's lapel and his eyes seemed to slide slightly out of focus. "Thank you, Pod," he said so very faintly, "for being a better son than I deserved."

Podrick's tears began anew and he looked up to Brienne for help that she feared she could not offer him. She had never been good at this part, particularly not with children. She bit her lip and reached an awkward hand out to Podrick's shoulder, but that seemed to only make it worse. He curled his knees up in front of him, buried his head there, and broke out into sobs that shook his entire little body.

Brienne didn't think, but reacted in the only way that she knew. She first pulled off her plain brown jacket and draped it across Dick's face. Then she made her way over to Podrick, crouched down into the grass next to him, and pulled him tight to her breast. His hands went around her waist to cling at the fabric at the back of her tunic. Brienne stroked his sweaty hair, murmuring soft sounds and gentle words.

When his breathing had returned somewhat to normal and he'd wiped his eyes, Pod pulled away from her and sniffled one last time. He looked as lost as a stray dog. "He liked this s-spot, I think," he said into his lap.

Brienne nodded, gazing out towards the ocean rippling unfailingly beneath the full moon. The fire within the stone inn seemed to be little more than smoke and embers. It unnerved her how quickly the interior had burned out.

Brienne stood and helped Pod to his feet as well. When she asked if he knew where she might find a shovel, the boy dutifully made his way to the shed half-hidden inside the woodline. When he returned, he hovered nervously at her elbow, teetering on the balls of his feet. Brienne gave him a rueful little smile and bent down to squeeze his shoulder affectionately.

"You’ve been very brave today. I'll take care of him," she told him somberly. She pulled a carefully wrapped heel of bread from the small pack she wore on her belt. "Take this and go sit under that tree. When I’m done, I’ll come fetch you."

After Podrick had left, Brienne turned to survey the situation. Burying the innkeeper in the dead of night while the inn itself smoked behind her was certainly not how she had planned to spend her first night in the Whispers hunting pirates. But the breeze from the ocean caught in the loose strands of her plaited hair, tickling her nose, and she thought that maybe she could at least say that she'd saved an innocent life tonight. The thought lifted her spirits far more than apprehending a pirate ever had.

Brienne dug the grave of a man she had never truly met, grateful for the small reprieve she could give the orphan boy. When she was done, her hands were stiff and raw but the pain grounded her. Some part of her had been like a ghost ship adrift at sea since she and Jaime had found themselves captured in the Riverlands. To be sure, he had returned a different person, but so had she. It had been some time since she’d even encountered someone as innocent and full of promise as young Podrick, and protecting him had made her feel _good_. She glanced back toward him where he rested with his head against the large old tree she had pointed him toward. She didn’t know what he’d gone through before the last couple of hours, but she hoped this night would be the worst he’d encounter. He looked peaceful in his sleep.

Brienne awoke him as gently as she could. He rubbed his eyes and blinked up at her but did not waste time being indirect. “Take me with you, Ser.”

She smiled at the confidence in his voice, the way the stutter had been dropped again. But she didn't think she would have an answer her would want to hear.

"Podrick, I'm a navy captain. I’m here to _catch_ pirates. That's no life for a boy." It wasn't strictly true; plenty such children served as deckhands and cabinboys. But she did not want to see the boy fall into the same traps as she had, lured to the sea by the romance of it, then finding there was little to be had.

"I could help," he offered quickly. "I p-promise I won't get in the way or slow you down."

Brienne sighed. "I'm sure you won't. But I’ll be hunting some of the same people your—er—Mr. Crabb—called friends."

Podrick shook his head, discouragement faintly creasing the space between his brows. "They weren't real f-f-friends most of the time. And besides, I have s-s-something you might need, if you want to c-c-catch a pirate."

Brienne arched a skeptical eyebrow.

"The m-m-map. He told me where to find Clarence Crabb's map."

Brienne was surprised to hear that, although it did explain the attack and talk of a black spot. It made sense; Nimble Dick had likely boasted to the wrong person and they'd wanted the treasure for their own. The history surrounding Crabb’s map was murky at best.

"Pod," she intoned carefully, "I don't search for buried treasure. I bring pirates to justice. You understand that?”

Podrick shrugged. "Yes, but … w-why?"

"Because it's the right thing to do. Pirates hurt people."

Even as she said the words, Brienne questioned how much she truly believed them. Who had done the most hurting? Sailors in the Royal Navy were always “just following orders” while simultaneously breaking any rules and laws they thought they could get away with. Her entire career men had mocked and taunted and refused to listen to her—until Jaime had begun to come to her defense. Women in port cities were rarely safe and it had to be an extreme case for anything to happen to the sailors who took advantage of them. Pirates were violent, there was no denying that, but they also had a reputation for egalitarianism that might have appealed to Brienne if she had not cast her lot in with the crown.

Pod was looking at her with pleading eyes, biting his lip nervously. She could see that he was thinking of new ways to ask. And what could she do? Leave him in a rundown port town with no one to watch over him? It was not even a question; she could not deny him. And perhaps the journey could be a good one. Crabb’s map had been lost for generations but the fortune that it led to had never been forgotten by the crown. It had been the largest cargo to have been stolen from the navy. She could retrieve the lot of it and return to Tarth to retire in peace, never having to deal with the moral dilemma of her commission ever again. And if a bit went missing to the orphan boy? Well, who would notice?

"Alright. But this won't be a cruise for the fun of it. You'll have to work and make yourself useful to the crew. Which," she hesitated, "I suppose I’ll have to hire. We'll need more people to outfit for a longer journey."

Pod beamed a toothy grin. "I won't let you down, Ser!"

—

The next morning, after a night spent sleeping in the plush grass beneath the large shady tree, Brienne walked into town with Podrick on her heels. He’d disappeared that morning and for nearly a full hour she’d been alarmed that whatever pirates had survived the night before had come back to finish the job. When he’d returned, he’d been sweaty and a little disheveled but grinning from ear to ear. Brienne had let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

The narrow dirt road to the next town was surprisingly pleasant. The Whispers had originally referred to an overgrown cliffside castle. The little town that had once bustled with fishermen, fishmongers, and craftworkers was now just rows of lonely and forgotten homes, roofs partially collapsed in some of them while others were covered in ivy. The inn was one of the few functional structures left in the area, and now it, too, would be lost to time and memory. The thought made Brienne a little sad as they passed crumbling wells and fields of overgrown grass taller than Podrick.

Their first stop when reaching the tiny town square was a visit with the sheriff, but even that had not been especially productive. The sheriff was tall and surprisingly pretty by the name of Aurane Waters. He seemed a good-natured man, though Brienne could not shake the suspicion that he either was a pirate or dealt with them. Her immediate instinct had been to take notes and report her findings back to her Admiral. But the sheriff had seemed genuinely remorseful to learn about Dick Crabb and the inn. He’d barely even gaped at Brienne’s intimidating stature. Why _should_ she report him? No, she was growing surer and surer that recovering Crabb’s lost fortune and retiring directly afterward would be the best thing for her. Perhaps she could find a cabin by the sea back on Tarth, finding some way of being useful to her brother when he eventually inherited their father’s lands and titles.

Brienne had drummed her fingers nervously on the countertop in the sheriff’s office, unfamiliar with the practice of allowing her duties to lapse. She bit her lip and pretended to be interested in a posting on the door about local ordinances. Finally she introduced herself and asked in her most prim, professional tone, “do you know to whom I might speak about commissioning a supplemental crew for an extended cruise?”

The sheriff grinned a sly grin and leaned forward onto slender forearms. “Looking for buried treasure, my lady?” His voice was smooth, almost high-born but perhaps not quite as educated. A bastard, she guessed.

Brienne’s eyes widened and she could feel herself blush. Jaime had told her more than once that she was a terrible liar. She could picture him now, smirking and telling her in that low voice he’d sometimes affect with her, that he could determine how far from the truth her words were just by how deeply and how far down her face and neck her blush traveled. She thought of that smirk every time she lied now—which mercifully was not often. The thought of it only made her blush hotter.

“My aunt is in the n-n-navy!” Podrick offered cheerfully. “She’s taking me home with her.”

“Aye?” asked the sheriff, his light eyes narrowing toward Brienne. “Not many women in the Royal Navy is there?”

It was at least a question Brienne was accustomed to. She shrugged indifferently but her lips pressed into a thin line. “Not many, no.”

Aurane considered her, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe behind him and folding his arms over his chest in a casually graceful sort of way that reminded her of Jaime. “Where are you sailing?” He still seemed suspicious.

“Lys,” Brienne said, keeping her tone as neutral as possible but feeling her palms sweat all the same.

The sheriff hummed suspiciously and continued to eye her closely. “I suppose I know someone who might be able to help you.” His sly smile widened to reveal pearly white teeth. “That’s me. Aurane Waters, at your service.”

The man—Aurane—dug through stacks of paper as though wholly unfamiliar with them. “My apologies,” he said without looking up from the nearest stack, “our regular sheriff is—er—away. But I know I have a list of—oh! Here we are.” He smoothed out a piece of parchment onto the counter between them. “Yes. This is it. Only…”

When he only looked pensive and did not continue, Brienne raised her eyebrows and nudged him on: “yes?”

“Well, there’s the matter of the finder’s fee.”

“Oh.” Brienne’s brow lowered again, knitting together. She fished around in the small pack she wore at her waist and pulled out a golden coin. “Of course.” She pressed it into Waters’ open palm.

He turned the coin over and over in his palm then checked its integrity by bending it. Once he was satisfied, Aurane slid the parchment across the counter toward Brienne and began pointing out names and job positions, asking what she needed and what she already had. In the end, Aurane had done most of the work. He’d gone with her to call upon each sailor individually, watched when she would pull another golden dragon from her pouch and hand it over to her new crewman.

By midday they had completed their task and met back at Aurane’s office for a lunch of bread and butter, charred herring, and cider. “So what’s in Lys, Brienne of Tarth?”

Brienne had been sipping at her drink. She continued to pull from it as her mind scrambled for a suitable explanation. “I keep my summer home there and intend to return my nephew now that his guardian is gone.” The lie seemed easier to tell now that she had had time to let it sink in.

"His guardian? You mean old Nimble Dick?"

Brienne nodded sharply, frowning. "An old friend of the boy's father."

Aurane's slender face remained passive but he hummed with a peculiar sort of interest that made the hair on Brienne’s arms stand on end. “Old Dick certainly had some, shall we say, _colorful_ friends.”

“Podrick’s a good lad,” she said firmly. Next to her, the boy fidgeted uncomfortably.

Aurane studied her for a moment—studied her without blinking. She gazed off to the side toward the wall where an anchor and a fishing net adorned the room. “You’ll still need a cook.” When Brienne agreed he continued: “What did you think of the food?”

She glanced at her empty plate and shrugged. “I have no complaints.”

“Good. Then I’ll be your new cook,” he announced jauntily. “ _But_ if I'm to be your cook—and I assure you I really _am_ the best there is—I'll need a concession."

"Oh. I have coin. I would pay some upfront—"

Aurane waved a long-fingered hand. "No, no. I'm sure the coin will be more than enough. I mean, I must be able to take my wife. She is used to sailing with me and has always proven herself to be rather useful to the crew." He glanced up from the small table they shared near the door and beckoned with a jerk of his head for someone behind Brienne’s shoulder to come toward him.

Brienne glanced around and nearly had the wind knocked out of her. A tall woman stood in the doorway to Aurane’s back office in a long, flowery dress that seemed out of place in a fishing community. Golden curls framed a face that seemed like it could have been cut from diamond it was so radiant and exquisite. Her eyes were an unusually bright shade of green that seemed so familiar to Brienne that it made her uneasy.

"Taena," she said in a honeyed tone through lips as perfectly pink as a rose. She offered a slender hand for Brienne to … kiss? Shake? Brienne just stared at it, uncertain.

"A pleasure, my lady."

Taena withdrew her hand and although she continued to smile, Brienne didn't miss how her eyes sharpened.

"Oh," she said in a contrived sort of surprise, "you're a woman. I'm so sorry, dear, I could hardly tell under all the … _unusual_ clothing you wear. But perhaps you meant for it to be that way."

Podrick’s head snapped toward her with alarm, but it was nothing Brienne had not heard before. Jaime had said nearly the exact same words upon meeting her. But he'd been righteously angry and uncharacteristically half-drunk. Later—much later, when she’d been chained to him in the Riverlands, cleaning and caring for him while his stump festered—Jaime had even apologized. At the time, Brienne wanted to write it off as the feverish ramblings of a man who was almost to the end of the plank. When he’d said it again months later— _I’m sorry, you deserved better from me_ —she had asked him to repeat himself. Their relationship, such as it were, had gotten much easier since then.

No, this woman, who superficially looked an odd amount _like_ Jaime, seemed far more poisonous than her former Captain had ever been. Brienne chose to ignore the comment about her looks and her gender; the younger version of herself who had first met Jaime Lannister certainly would not have. She instead turned her attention back to Aurane Waters, who regarded her with cool eyes.

"That will do," Brienne said firmly. She stood pulled another gold coin from her satchel and laid it carefully upon table between them.

By the time they had bid the sheriff and his wife goodbye, Brienne had decided she did not care for Taena at all and suspected an ulterior motive for Aurane as well. But Pod was smiling contentedly up at her, rolling the gold coin she'd given him the day before over his knuckles.

One trip. That's all it would be. She'd help the boy find a better life and then she would return to Westeros and find her place. It seemed so long ago that she had been so _certain_ that her place was with the navy. But of late, other options filled her daydreams. Dreams of a life without regret; something fulfilling, surrounded by people who loved her, even if it was only just her brother and whatever children he might one day produce. Just one more voyage and she could wash her hands of pirates and the navy for good. Brienne was still young enough, not yet thirty years old. The future stretched out before her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song at the beginning of this chapter is Fleet Foxes' [Your Protector](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dtVPJVxqcS8).


	2. Brienne II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei tries to seduce Brienne and Brienne goes and gets herself kidnapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and chapter 1 were originally one big chapter, but it really needed to be split up, so I present you: Brienne II. Or, as I like to think of it, Brienne 1.5.

_I'll find you in the morning sun_  
_And when the night is new_  
_I'll be looking at the moon_  
_But I'll be seeing you_

-

Podrick’s map led their ship south on a calm, warm wind. The summer skies had been clear overhead and the crew had bickered little. It had been a recent change that Jon Snow would serve as quartermaster, an upgrade from his previous position as pilot. The only turbulence in the dynamic that Brienne had noticed had been between Jon and Asha, the strong-willed young woman Brienne had hired to take over as pilot. Jon had taken to finding her at the helm of the ship and arguing incessantly with her until one of them stormed off. It made Brienne grin privately, how protective Jon was of their ship. With him, Jon brought his little sister Arya to work as cabin boy—or cabin girl—for the summer.

Presently, Brienne stood on the rear deck, just above the captain’s quarters, watching Podrick and Arya play a game of tag on the main deck just below. Arya was younger and smaller than Pod, but the boy didn’t seem to mind much. Brienne longed for such easier times. As a girl she had sailed often, with her father at first and then Galladon as he’d gotten older. She’d spent her childhood befriending dolphins as they swam alongside the ship and callusing her hands on the ropes and sails. It had been simple and joyful then. She often wondered if other sailors her age turned so cynical so young.

Across the main deck, Brienne spied a couple of Aurane’s men that had proven to be a little more fastidious in their service to him personally than Brienne might have liked. Boros Blount and Allar Deem were watching Podrick and Arya with a concentration that put Brienne ill at ease. Aurane himself had begun to take Podrick under his wing before the anchors had even been lifted. He would bring Pod down to the little kitchen to chop vegetables and talk sailing life. In the evenings the boy would return to the cramped quarters he had been given, grinning and sucking at his fingers where he’d been clumsy with the chef’s knife. Brienne did not much care for this, either.

For now she chose to ignore Aurane’s men, instead opting to keep one eye on them from her vantage point well above the rest of the ship. Still, she wrapped her fingers around Oathkeeper’s hilt and closed her eyes. It was almost ritualistic for Brienne in times of stress or confusion, a practice she’d taken up years earlier, not long after Jaime had gifted her the sword.

“ _If you insist on staying on this bloody ship, you’ll at least take the thrice-damned sword_ ,” he had told her, unbuckling his sword belt as he spoke each angry word.

Brienne had tried to refuse the sword; it was Jaime’s now to be sure, but Brienne knew it was meant for him and for his children. For a Lannister. If his proposal had seemed an uncomfortable joke, thrusting his sword into her hand had been a terrible punchline. She had realized too late that Jaime truly had meant for her to keep it. And if he had meant that, then perhaps he had meant the other things he’d said and promised and _asked_ as well. It was enough to drive any woman mad.

She was staring out at the sunset over the sea, her thumb running unconsciously over the lion’s head. As a girl she’d done much the same aboard her father’s ship, wondering whether the pink setting sun over the deep blue waters of the Narrow Sea had stolen their colors from Tarth’s own sigil. The sigil was ancient, her septa had told her during her lessons, from a time no one alive could remember. Looking out across the sea now, the sight just reminded her of _home_. Of her father’s strong arms around her shoulders and Jaime’s insistence that one day they’d turn their sails toward the horizon and not turn back until they’d discovered what painted the golden sun so red.

“A woman of the crown’s own navy,” said a woman’s voice approaching from behind her.

Brienne glanced over her shoulder to find Asha Greyjoy sauntering toward her. She offered the other woman a weak smile, a different type of anxiety blooming in the pit of her stomach. “Aye.” It was hardly a topic she wanted to discuss. She had long been uncomfortable in her naval, but it was only recently that she had truly begun to disentangle what she wanted to do about it.

“We’re on quite a queer journey for you navy types. Sailing a little orphan boy all the way down the coast like this is a bit more charitable than I’d expect.”

“Podrick is my nephew.” The words rolled across Brienne’s tongue easily enough this time. In the short couple of weeks since she had met the lad, it had even started to feel true. “I’m only doing my duty as his only family.”

Asha hummed at that and roved her big, dark eyes over Brienne as though trying to find the lie hidden in the way she stood. Brienne felt exposed under the young woman’s sharp stare but she kept her face stoically neutral. “Do you like being in the navy, then?”

Brienne sighed heavily and turned away to face the sea. Their ship drifted along in relative silence, the only sound the rhythmic slap of the deep blue waters against the hull. She liked this bit, the actual sailing. The peace she could find in a quiet corner or the camaraderie she could join in with below deck, where her crewmates were certainly engaged in a rousing game of cards.

She and Jaime had been captured by pirates while sailing along the Narrow Sea more than five years earlier. Jaime had been ready to hack them to bits—and he probably would have—had Brienne not intervened. She often wondered if he would still have his hand if she had just not interfered with his plans to begin with. But it was a fruitless exercise. It had taken him a full year to come to terms with his new way of life, and when he had…

Brienne’s eyelids fluttered closed at the memory. Was it _regret_ she felt now? That overpowering sensation that originated from her stomach and flooded all of her body every time she thought of him? They had worked together so well, once. Perhaps they could have still. But they lived such different lives now and Brienne knew that leaving the navy would likely mean never seeing Jaime again. But it would also mean not having to decide between arresting him and his crew or her own career ever again.

What a strange thought that was: Jaime, her prisoner. It was so outlandish she almost wanted to laugh.

But instead she drew her lips into a thin line and sighed. "I used to like being in the navy," she said, thinking of the thrill of hunting down pirates with Jaime and feeling as though they had _done something_ , "but I suppose at the end of the day, it's just a job. Same as anything."

Asha gave her a curious look. “My brother Theon’s in the navy. Our father hated that. Said he’d rather see him dead than serving a king who didn’t give two shits about him.”

“I hope your brother finds meaning in his service,” Brienne said diplomatically.

Asha shrugged. “We’re all sailors on Pyke. Theon’s the only one of us to ever sail for the king, though. Most of us went the _less official_ route.”

Brienne nodded. She could understand that now. There was a time at the beginning of her career, now ten years gone, when she might have felt personally insulted. But the freedom of the waters seemed to call her name louder and louder with each passing day.

The boat swayed and sloshed under mercifully clear skies for several mostly peaceful days. The sun rose on one horizon and set in another. The crew pulled out their maps with diligence, and Brienne left them to it. But her map was her own, the names of stars and constellations echoing in her head, some in her father's voice and some in Jaime's. Between the two of them, she felt she had memorized every nook and cranny of the night sky.

Her father had been happy enough to send Brienne to make a life of her own; she rarely saw him. And Jaime was of course gone. But under the stars, Brienne could pretend they were there with her, acting as her guiding lights. Her father had sailed his family safely into harbor during many a sailing trip using those same stars. He had made sure to teach Brienne each and every one he knew. Jaime had taught her the rude ones and the silly ones, nothing of any actual use. How she had scowled and griped at him. But Jaime had always only smiled.

Unbidden, Brienne wondered if she might ever have children of her own to teach about the heavens.

She sighed, unwilling to allow herself to linger on that question, and pushed herself away from the desk in the captain's cabin. Podrick's map was spread out before her, illuminated by silvery light from the half-moon streaming in through the window just above her desk. There was no need for lamps or lanterns on such a cloudless night, a small mercy on such a warm summer's day.

Brienne had spent most of her precious free time pouring over the map, and still parts of it confused her. She was certain that it was intentional, but Brienne was beginning to decipher it. She at least had worked out that the island they were sailing to was a small one not far off the coast of Lys. It would still take more of these late night sessions to work out where to go once they got to the island, however.

Behind her, the door creaked open without a knock. Brienne stood quickly, spinning in the direction of the sound. She watched as Taena slid through, taking no heed to Brienne's presence in the room.

Brienne cleared her throat loudly and Taena's head snapped up to reveal startled green eyes.

"Oh, hello," she said, recovering herself quickly, "I didn't realize you were here. I was just coming to…" She trailed off long enough for Brienne to quirk an eyebrow. "Tidy up." Taena ran slender fingers over the nearest table and made a face as she did. "It's a bit dusty, isn't it? Understandable. I'm sure you are a very busy woman and surely cleaning does not come naturally."

Brienne very much did not like this woman, she had decided during the course of the voyage. Everything about her seemed off. As Taena made her way toward her, Brienne noticed how she exaggerated the sway of her hips and dipped her blonde head low with a smirk that seemed entirely too familiar.

Once again, Brienne's hand went to the pommel of the sword. Her patience with this crew was beginning to wear thin. When Taena stood in front of her, the slender woman took in her appearance with bored green eyes.

"You're entirely too tall."

Brienne wrinkled her face. "So I've heard."

The other woman shrugged a pale shoulder. "I can work with it."

It was only when she surged up and forward that Brienne realized what was happening. She instinctively planted both palms against Taena's shoulders and stepped backward, the backs of her legs colliding with the table.

"What are you _doing_?"

"Don't pretend you haven't been staring at me from the moment we met," Taena snapped.

Brienne blinked once. And then again She had been accused of much in her twenty-something years. Recently Admiral Stannis Baratheon himself had even suggested Brienne was working _with_ Jaime since he’d begun styling himself “Captain Hook” and acting like a pirate king. Brienne had pretended to let the accusation roll off her back, but it still stung. Not even that could match the absurdity that Brienne wanted Taena to _kiss her._

"Not because I—I'm sorry, but I'm not interested!" This was _certainly_ uncharted territory. "You just… look like someone I used to know. A _man_ I used to know." She frowned, but the incredulity of the situation was not dissipating. "But never mind that, you're _married_!"

Taena snorted. "Don’t be so dull, Brienne of Tarth." Her eyes dropped from Brienne's face to stare at something behind her.

 _The map_.

Brienne opened her mouth to say something, trying to think of a clever way to retrieve the map from Taena's eyesight without being terribly obvious about it. But before she could speak, Pod came bounding into the room.

"Brienne!" he said, breathless.

"Little boy! Did no one ever teach you to knock before entering a room?" Taena's eyes were slight with obvious disgust.

"He's just a boy, and not yours to teach lessons," Brienne retorted sharply. "You may go. I'll tidy up for myself."

Taena’s glare turned scorching and Brienne was hit with the suspicion that the woman had rarely ever been told what to do by much of anyone. She looked almost _mad_ , as though Brienne’s instructions were the most insulting she had ever received. But Taena sniffed and curtsied in another of her long, ostentatious dresses and backed out of the room.

Once she was satisfied the door had clicked shut, Brienne turned her attention to Podrick. "Yes, Pod?"

"It's Arya. I can't f-f-find her."

Brienne frowned. "When did you last see her?"

Podrick grimaced, looking guilty. "After breakfast, when we played Watchmen-and-robbers. I just thought she was s-s-sleeping."

Brienne's heart clenched. She had seen them running around the ship laughing and chasing one another, had admonished them to be more careful. That had been at least eight hours earlier. If something had happened, they stood no chance of recovering her. But Arya was smart and had proven herself to be a knowledgeable young sailor-in-training. It seemed more likely she had slipped off somewhere than that something horrible had befallen her.

"Are you _sure_ you've searched everywhere?"

"I—" he bit his lip, "I th-th-think so."

Brienne ran a hand through her hair with a heavy sigh. She turned back to the map, traced a finger over the line leading to the big black _**X**_ in the top corner. It seemed to be calling her the way no map she’d ever seen before truly had. But she rolled it back up and locked it in the trunk beneath her desk. Before straightening, Brienne gripped the key to the trunk tightly in one hand, thinking of Taena. It made her nervous.

“Pod,” she said slowly, “you and the Mr. Waters get along well, yes?”

“Oh, v-very much!” Podrick beamed, relief at the change of subject written plainly on his thin face. “M-M-Mr. Waters has been t-teaching me how to c-ccook and all about the stars and c-constellations. He’s been very k-k-kind.”

Brienne smiled ruefully. “And we get along just as well?”

“I get along with you the b-b-best,” he said, his smile going sheepish.

“I need you to do something very important for me, then. Alright?”

Podrick nodded, wide brown eyes looking at Brienne’s hand where it clenched around the key.

“Guard this,” she whispered, crouching down to the boy’s eye level. She slipped the rope of the key around his neck and tucked it into his tunic. “It’s the key to your map. Not the Waters, not Arya, not anyone needs to know you have it or what it’s for. Guard it for Nimble Dick and for me and for every man who’s not let that map fall into the wedding hands. Understood?”

“Yes,” he whispered, bringing his fingers up to touch the place where the key rested against his chest. “I p-p-promise. Not anyone.”

Brienne gave him a smile and they set off together to look for the missing Arya Stark. Brienne would not say so to Podrick, but unless she was hiding in a barrel of apples somewhere—and it didn’t seem wholly unlikely that she wasn’t—the odds of finding her were slim. She didn’t tell anyone what she was up to, and in fact came across few people. Perish the thought if Jon Snow discovered she’d lost his beloved little sister! It was a Saturday night, the one night of the week the crew might overindulge in their limited stores of liquor. Most of them were below deck, playing cards and singing tunes and sharing stories of life on the open seas.

After an excruciating several minutes of searching, Brienne came upon the Waters’ quarters. She hesitated. Most of the crew shared a barracks, but being a married couple, Brienne had given them one of the small private rooms, near the larder. In truth, it was hardly right to call it a room; it was little more than a cupboard with a bed and a candlestick.

Brienne’s fist was lifted in the air to knock when she heard a floorboard creak behind her. She spun around, hand on her sword, just in time to see Taena, Boros Blount, Allar Deem, and two others from Aurane’s personally-selected crew. They were all grinning, but it was a joke Brienne was decidedly _not_ in on.

“Need something, Captain Tarth?” Taena’s voice was honeyed but her grin was wicked. Brienne had never seen anything quite like it.

“We have a missing crewman. I’m checking all the rooms.” Brienne’s eyes narrowed as Taena folded her arms over her chest, one golden eyebrow arched high. Taena’s stance exuded arrogance and everything smug she had once hated about Jaime. In fact—

Realization struck Brienne like a ton of bricks.

Brienne would know that expression anywhere. No smile she had ever encountered in any harbor in all the world could compare to the trademark Lannister smirk. Brienne couldn’t say anything, couldn’t do anything. All she could do was stare, feeling like a complete fool. Of course. Of _bloody_ course. If she’d learned anything from Jaime it was that his sister could not be trusted, would do anything to get her way. Brienne had never met the woman, but every drop of boiling hatred she’d ever felt toward her on Jaime’s behalf was suddenly threatening to spill over. But the threat was too great. She _had_ to remain calm if she was going to get herself and the crew out of whatever peculiar situation she had allowed them to blunder into.

“There are no little runaways hidden in my cabin, I’ll assure you.” But even as she spoke, the men behind her crept forward, slimy smiles upon each of their faces and a hard shine in each eye.

Brienne drew her sword, the red Valyrian steel glinting dangerously in the lamplight. “You’re a Lannister.”

Taena snorted. “And you’re thick as a castle wall, Brienne of Tarth. Of course I am.”

Brienne huffed, overcome with a sudden urge to charge through Cersei Lannister’s men and tackle her to the ground first. But before she could, one of them was upon her, the steely Allar Deem. He raised his sword but from the first strike Brienne could tell he didn’t mean to attack her lethally. They clearly wanted something from her.

Brienne parried his downward blow easily, just as reluctant to shed blood where it wasn’t warranted. But then Blount jumped in, followed by the other two. Brienne was strong and indefatigable and _good_ , but she was also backed into an actual corner and outnumbered.

“Oh, Captain,” she heard Taena say just before what must have been a blow to the head condensed her world to peaceful darkness, “you really should not have come snooping.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the warm responses thus far! Jaime I is next. :)
> 
> The song for this chapter was Billie Holiday's [I'll Be Seeing You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDlKb2cBAqU)


	3. Jaime I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very strange reunion.

_Somewhere beyond the sea  
_ _Somewhere waiting for me_  
_My lover stands on golden sands  
_ _And watches the ships that go sailing_

-

The sun was just emerging on the horizon when Jaime awoke with a leisurely stretch. He climbed out of his cottage and made his way down to the shore to stand with his toes in the sand and his hand at his hip, watching the sea turn from navy blue to a sparkling cerulean. He had spent his childhood by the sea at Casterly Rock and then his adult life on the sea on the navy. For nearly four years Jaime had called the island home. And still yet, the morning vista had not failed to dazzle him.

The sea to the southeast rarely held any traffic, but still Jaime liked to check the waters outside their little village. It calmed him to see firsthand that they remained safe. Once he’d had his fill of the view and felt secure enough in their continued secret seclusion, Jaime turned back toward the village nestled between bursts of leafy green trees and tangled vines. His home stood the furthest away from the rest of the little structures, small and cozy and all he needed when he was not out on his ship.

He trudged through the warm sand, thinking of the voyage he had just returned from. He’d been successful, but only by the skin of his teeth this time. He even bore the healing pink slash across his tricep from the cutlass of a Royal sailor to prove it. The Westerosi navy had yet again plundered the Stepstones of resources valuable to the local population, and Jaime had set out on the familiar journey to take back what had belonged to them. It was incremental and in the grand scheme of things likely did not matter much. But sailing and fighting were his only real skills and he’d been determined to put them to better use the crown ever had.

He was almost back to his yellow-painted cottage when the sound of sand sifting away under someone’s boots met his ears. He turned on a dime, still jumpy from a lifetime of fending off attacks from both navymen and pirates alike. But it was only Ilyn Payne and his parrot.

“ _Trouble north_ ,” the parrot squawked, “ _trouble north_.”

Jaime sighed and ran his hand through his hair, his bare stump resting at his hip. It had at one time been quite strange to him that the old sailor’s bird seemed able to repeat Ilyn’s thoughts, but Ilyn had had the bird for years now, and it had just become the way of things. “What sort of trouble?” Jaime asked apprehensively.

" _Navy_ ," the bird said, flapping its wings in a harried sort of way. " _NAAAAAVVYYYY!_ "

Jaime grimaced and followed at a quick step where Ilyn beckoned him. All across the port town the residents were emerging from their homes and beginning their day. No one seemed aware or concerned about the current tidings. It was just as Jaime preferred it. He had not asked to become the protector of this island, but if it was a position he had to fill, he privately quite liked knowing the people could rely on him.

Ilyn led him up a stony path worn into the edge of the island's only mountain. The parrot occasionally muttered words that Jaime couldn't make out, but which made Ilyn click his tongueless laughter. Jaime hated the sound. It set his teeth on edge, feeling as though a joke had been told at his expense and no real way to parse out what it had been. He often fantasized about strangling the bird.

Jaime and Ilyn turned a bend in the trail and the Narrow Sea opened up before them. The waters were as clear and blue as sapphires. Jaime could clearly see little schools of fish, shells, rocks, starfish, and seaweed littering the sandy seabed below. The sea was only rivaled by the skies above, which would have stretched out endlessly and unobstructed as far as Jaime could see. But a ship was in the way.

“Can you tell who it is?” Jaime asked, standing with his hand and stump on his hips and squinting out into the distance.

Ilyn had his spyglass pressed against his eye, and Jaime watched him with as much patience as he could manage. Which was, in fact, very little. Jaime huffed and grabbed the spyglass from Ilyn and stepped out into the waters. The waves sloshed across his bare calves where his breeches were rolled up to his knees and his toes sank into the sand.

“ _Very rude_!” the bird admonished, but Jaime ignored it, squinting one eye and straining the other against the lens.

He knew that ship.

Jaime’s arm fell heavily, letting the spyglass dangle between two fingers at his side while the parrot pecked persistently at his shoulder. The ship was still far off—they had some time to formulate a plan—but he knew at once that it was an old navy ship that should have been decommissioned years ago. Instead it had been given a new Captain. Jaime suspected this one was the only one of its build still on the crown’s charters. He might have felt at ease upon seeing one like it, assuming it belonged to a privateer or other pirates. Normally they left one another to their own schemes. It was only the Royal Navy that Jaime and his fellow settlers truly worried about, and even they had not been successful in finding their base yet.

But this ship Jaime had sailed on before. Even if the rest of the vessel wasn’t a giveaway, he would know anywhere the azure-and-rose sails intermingled with the Westerosi crest. He had personally gifted those sails to their Captain himself, upon her appointment.

 _Brienne of Tarth_.

Come to collect him at last, he presumed.

They had parted on uncertain terms at best and crossed paths a handful of times after. But, Jaime thought to himself as he stalked away from the beach, neither thought was wholly true. They had parted because Jaime had asked an impossible question of her then left without a goodbye when he hadn’t liked the answer. And their meetings had been little more than waves of recognition from the deck of opposing ships up and down the Narrow Sea. She seemed to always let him go, and each time it gave him a hollow aching feeling in the pit of his stomach. She had always been far too kind—between her insults and scowls and the way she seemed able to see directly through everything he said or did.

" _Rude again_!" the bird called after Jaime's retreating back.

Jaime smacked the broad leaf of a low-hanging banana tree in response. His angry footfalls along the trail sent up clouds of sand and dust with each strike.

The night he'd left the Royal Navy, Ilyn had spotted him first. Jaime thought he'd have to fight the man but instead he'd silently helped him leave. It didn't take long to recruit more sailors they'd known during their time in the navy, both from Ilyn's old crews and from Jaime's. Together their crew set out to recover gold and goods plundered by the Royal Navy in the name of the King of Westeros. Not all of it could be tracked down to its source and returned. Jaime and the rest had used the excess to build up a base on the most remote island within the Stepstones. In no time at all, and thanks at least in part to a fear of the formidable and uncrossable Captain Jaime Lannister, the community was thriving.

Jaime knew it couldn't have lasted forever. He just didn't want it to be her. He'd told her time and again of his plan to leave, to just sail away from it all and start anew. Away from his family, away from the crown, away from wrongs he would never be able to right. She should be here with him now. Not on that shitty old boat.

He rounded the last bend in the trail and found his way to Addam Marbrand's bungalow.

"Addam," he breathed when the copper-haired man opened the door to him, "don't raise the alarm just yet. But there's a naval ship on the horizon."

Addam's sleepy eyes came sharply into focus. "The Royal Navy? _Here_?"

"No, with your sister. Yes, _here_." Jaime tangled a fist into his hair, hesitating. "It's Brienne."

"Fuck," was all Addam said before disappearing back inside, leaving Jaime alone on his doorstep.

He let out a harsh breath. This was not what he had ever expected, but gods, maybe he should have. What cruelly sweet poetic justice. Jaime stood with his hands and stump on his hips, watching her ship once more. He had much to do to get ready, but he was not sure that he ever truly would be.

The red summer sun was hovering above the western horizon when Ilyn wandered back in Jaime's direction. He'd been at work most of the day preparing The Islanders for whatever Brienne had in store for them. Jaime wasn't sure what to expect, but he wiped their makeshift armory clean. By lunch every inhabitant had a weapon in hand and by dinner Jaime had been certain that many of them had forgotten how to use one. He had felt he had only himself to blame; he'd allowed them to grow complacent, nestled into their little utopia as they were.

" _Captain Hook!_ " the bird shouted toward Jaime where he stood in the treeline, shirtless and cutting branches to be fashioned into spears.

Jaime clenched his jaw, but would not give the bird the satisfaction of a response to the name. The hook was useful to be sure, Jaime found the nickname lackluster and droll. Each time he heard it spoken—which was rare, given his well-known hatred for it—he wondered why he had not had a whole new hand fashioned instead. A golden one perhaps, and fuck you to anyone who thought it ostentatious.

 _"Captain HOOOOOK!_ " The bird flapped its wings with frustration and Ilyn clucked.

Jaime spun on his heel. "Payne, tell your bird to control its tongue, or I'll have it out too."

"Reduced to fighting birds now, dear brother?"

Jaime blinked rapidly. His chest was suddenly so tight it felt as though the vines dangling from the trees had wrapped themselves around him; his feet so still and heavy that the roots themselves seemed to have risen from the ground to aid in his capture. The sea crashed distantly in his ears once, twice, a third time. But a voice that he could not possibly have heard rang in his ears above it.

" _Sister_ ," the bird huffed as impatiently as a bird could huff.

Jaime turned slowly around.

Cersei stood tall and proud among the trees in an out-of-place crimson gown, as though she had been transported by magic from a summer’s eve ball at King’s Landing. The hem was jagged in places and mud had soaked through. Her blond ringlets—normally so soft Jaime had always felt compelled to reach out and touch them—were limp and messy. Some part of him felt dreadfully sad for her, but the way she was smirking at him sapped away him of much of that sadness.

"Cersei," he said when he'd regained control of his voice, "what the bloody _hell_ are you doing here? How did you find me?"

His sister made a breathy nose of disapproval. "I wasn't looking for _you_. I'm here for the treasure."

Jaime stared, gobsmacked. He knew she had gone mad with desperation to impress their father, but treasure hunting was never an endeavor he had pictured her in. It seemed such a short time ago that she had been queen. How quickly that had unravelled. Looking at her now, that hungry and maniacal look in her predatory green eyes, Jaime could only marvel at how quickly _she_ had unravelled.

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, Cersei. I can’t help you."

His sister laughed and Jaime wondered whether the melody was truly gone from her voice or if perhaps the songs she sang for him were simply no longer appealing. "Oh, Jaime. Still desperate to appear useful."

 _Only desperate to be rid of you_.

“Fortunately for us both, I have the map right here.”

Cersei turned her attention toward a spot behind the nearest cluster of trees. She reached out a slender hand and yanked someone’s arm until they were in view.

Whatever grip he’d felt the island held on him in before, Jaime was certain that his heart now beat in his chest with enough force and speed to tear through every last constriction.

He had last seen her from the balcony of his ship while she stood on another. They had exchanged small, pathetic waves of recognition—perhaps even acceptance, he wanted to believe. Jaime was under no pretense that she could not have captured his ship if she had truly wanted to. They had not been separated by much, although it might as well have been the entire ocean for all the good their nearness did him.

Standing no more than three feet from her now, he could see that she was as tall and broad and ungainly as ever. Her face was somehow even more freckled and she had two small lines between her brow that made Jaime wonder what had kept her so worried that it might leave physical evidence. But her eyes remained the same: guileless blue depths that Jaime thought he could retire in, never needing to see the sea again.

Presently, her guileless blue depths were staring at him as if he were a fish in trousers. Her mouth moved soundlessly and she’d gone an impossible shade of white.

" _Ja—_ " she finally started.

"Who's the giantess?" Jaime asked his sister, cutting across Brienne's words. He gave a quick, barely perceptible shake of his head to Brienne. The sight of her within Cersei's reach was more than a little alarming. Surely it would be better for them all if Cersei didn't learn that he and Brienne had ever known one another—what she meant to him. He only hoped Brienne would understand what he was doing. At one time, they had known how to read every twitch of one another’s face, every brief glance, every quiet touch. Jaime only hoped she still could.

Cersei shrugged. "She owns that ship you see coming. _I_ captured her though. She has a map to the largest treasure Westeros ever lost and I intend to get it back." Anyone else might not have noticed the edge in Cersei's voice, the way it shook just so. Jaime noticed.

“What could you possibly want or need with Westerosi treasure?”

“Dear brother,” Cersei said, stepping in front of Brienne to run a hand down Jaime’s bare chest, “surely you must know what this would mean for me. _For us_. The mines are quickly running dry, but if this missing fortune is as large as they say it is…” she trailed off wistfully

Jaime glanced down at her hand pressed to his skin and frowned. “That’s foolish, Cersei. Even for you.”

Cersei’s eyes flashed, but only for an instant. Jaime wanted to laugh. Did she think she could reach out to him once and the fragments of the bond they had once shared would be mended whole? That Jaime would drop everything for her?

But then he swept his gaze across Brienne’s face and his heart leapt once more. Her jaw was set, her lips pressed into a white line across her typically dour face. But her eyes gave her away, as always they did for Jaime. They had grown wide. He had known his wench to feel fear, but rarely to show it. The sight of it writ plainly across her face unsettled Jaime. He knew what he had to do, at least for now.

Instead of pulling away, Jaime covered Cersei’s hand with his own and stepped closer. He towered over her just enough for Cersei to be unable to see his face. Jaime didn’t take his eyes from Brienne’s, pleading with her to understand what he was doing. At the small nod of her head, an unexpected wave of relief washed over Jaime. He hadn’t realized how much he had dreaded her hatred of him; her disapproval and distrust. It was not much, but he chose to hang his hopes on it anyway.

“I know where it is,” he said, dipping his chin enough to capture Cersei’s eye. “The treasure of Clarence Crabb exists and I know where it is.”

“Without the map?”

“No,” he said, perhaps too quickly. “No, we need her. But I have a plan.”

“Oh, _Jaime_ , I knew you would! How lucky I was to find you here.” She threw her slender arms around his neck and pulled him toward her.

Jaime winced but brought his arms up. He mouthed _I’m sorry_ over his sister’s shoulder, but Brienne remained stoic.

“This will not be easy, Cersei. Are you _sure_ it’s what you want?”

Cersei dropped her arms from him and took a step backward. “Are you going to help me or aren’t you? I haven’t time for your lectures.”

Jaime took in her frazzled appearance again and frowned. He had returned to King’s Landing from the Riverlands with a hook where his hand had been. Cersei had still been queen then, powerful and shining with life. Her eyes had once been emeralds inlaid in the gold of her hair and skin, her entire being a perfect gem that Jaime would have died to protect.

For a time, Jaime thought he had almost persuaded her to run away with him. He was done with the navy, done with politics and Westeros and a life lived for others. But when he had reached for her, and the hook had snagged at her dress. For weeks he had lost sleep wondering what might have happened if he would have just considered anything besides a hook for his hand.

The more he had thought on it, rocking to and fro on peaceful nighttime seas, the more he had realized that his sister would never see him as anything more than that hand—what he could offer her, and never what she could give.

One morning he had awoken after yet another restless night and Brienne had been standing outside his door. Her palm rested upon her sword, an old standard issue cutlass that had always seemed small in her hands. When he had exited his quarters, Brienne had looked at him with so much concern in her eyes it threatened to swallow Jaime whole. He’d felt something similar when he was around Cersei, when they were fucking or fighting; a fire he had once thought he could never tire of, would never want to put out. But Brienne had reached out her hand, as if on reflex, and smoothed her thumb across his tired brow. The ship had continued to sway beneath them, and Jaime didn’t feel fire. He didn’t feel like he would be turned to ash at any moment. He felt a breeze, the wind in his hair and salty air in his lungs.

No fires could burn on the sea. All the better for breathing.

“Yes,” he said to Cersei in the present, though his eyes never left Brienne’s. “I’ll help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is [Beyond the Sea](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m8OlDPqYBLw), preferably the Bobby Darin version.
> 
> This chapter was not betaed because I have no chill.


	4. Brienne III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne team up to thwart Cersei and save Podrick.

_I move slow and steady_   
_But I feel like a waterfall_   
_I move slow and steady_   
_Past the ones that I used to know_

_-_

The stars were twinkling overhead by the time they made their way back to Jaime’s cabin. It was a small and rustic thing but brightly colored and more cheerfully decorated than Brienne would have expected. A large woven tapestry adorned one wall. Wood carvings, paintings, and other trinkets decorated the roughly constructed mahogany tables and shelves throughout the little space. Charming and cozy, the place was the antithesis of the oppressive Casterly Rock that Jaime had been set to inherit. Brienne suspected that was the point.

His home was unexpected, but finding him at all was even more surprising. Brienne had heard Ilyn’s bird before Cersei had stopped them in their progress along the trail and Brienne had thought she must at last be going mad. _Captain Hook_ , the bird had been squawking. Only one man went by such a name, and it would be the one man who might be able to help her, if he didn’t intend to kill her. She could only fool Cersei into thinking she had the map for so long, and she _had_ to find Podrick. When she’d awoken on the shore, her hands had been bound and Cersei had been demanding Brienne give her the map. Panicked, Brienne had told her the map was gone but she’d memorized it. She could think of a plan along the way.

And then the plan had found _her_ instead: a shirtless, shining Jaime Lannister. And also Ilyn Payne with a talking parrot.

She did not know what to say, what to think. After the initial shock had worn off, she had feared that Jaime was in on the capture of her ship with Cersei and Aurane. But the way he’d looked at her—had it been relief she saw in his eyes? His features were as sharp and leonine as she remembered, his hair longer and wilder. But the softness in his eyes that he shared only with Brienne was still there. She wanted to be cross with him, but how could she when he looked at her so? When he might be her only saving grace?

“ _Gods_ , Jaime, how long have you had to live like this?” Cersei walked over to a table near the pair of chairs in the corner of the room. Between two fingers, as though it were a venomous animal, she picked up a pot filled with dainty, deep-blue flowers and wrinkled her nose at her brother with disdain.

For just a second, Jaime’s face pinched with annoyance, but he quickly schooled his features and strode across the room to take the pot. “It isn’t much. But it’s mine.”

Cersei gave a hum of obvious disapproval. “Father said you became a pirate. This does not look like the home of a pirate.”

“What did Father know about anything? He never left Westeros.”

“He certainly wouldn’t be caught dead here, which I believe says rather a lot about what he knows.”

“How can you still defend him after all this time? He only put the idea of the navy in my head to separate me from you, and then expected me to drop everything to join him at Casterly Rock when he thought I’d served long enough. The way he treated Tyrion—”

“Don’t you dare _speak_ of the Imp to me!”

“He’s our brother!” Jaime’s voice was rising and Brienne could see color deepening in Cersei’s face.

“ _Your_ brother, perhaps. He was never mine.”

“Are you still so hellbent on hating the man?”

“What do you care?” Cersei’s voice was like ice, her knuckles white on the clay pot. “You left all of us. Do you know what it’s been like at the Rock? What I’ve had to sacrifice for the family name? Father is dead, Tyrion has disappeared, Robert’s bloody bastard sits on the throne—yet you’re here gallivanting around with no responsibilities to anyone.”

“ _Sacrifice_?” Jaime ground out. His fist was clenched and he stepped close to Cersei, their noses nearly touching. “What have you ever had to sacrifice? Your choices were always your own, you just never cared for the outcome.”

Cersei did not answer. Instead she screamed and threw Jaime’s pot across the room, where it shattered. Water splashed across the wall and the flowers slumped down onto the creaky wooden floor.

Jaime’s jaw clenched, his green eyes narrowed and his chest heaving. Brienne dug her toes into the floor to prevent herself going to him. No matter what else he had become to her, it was difficult to watch him suffer alone. She did not have long to have to watch, though, because Jaime’s eyes fluttered and his jaw relaxed. He strode over to the mess Cersei had made and scooped up the flowers. He studied them carefully, running one finger over a delicate petal, causing it to fall away, drifting to the floor.

When he straightened again, his eyes were on Brienne and she thought that she might make like the flowers and slide to the floor. His eyes had been soft and sincere earlier, but he had not looked at her _like that_ in so long that she had forgotten how he could make her feel. Something deep within her fluttered, as if coming back to life. Jaime crossed the room in two long strides and suddenly there he was, directly before her.

Brienne was not sure what she had expected him to do, but it certainly had not been for him to reach out his hook and use the point to fray the length of rope that attached one of her hands to the other. Cersei gasped indignantly but Jaime just held his hook up over his shoulder without looking at her.

“Forget-me-nots,” he murmured, moving closer into her space. His breath puffed against her jaw. “They grow deep in the forest here. I make sure to retrieve them every time .”

She only had time to inhale shakily and wrap her fingers around the flowers, trying not to crush them any further in her large hands, before Cersei snorted derisively.

“Has this overlong exposure to the sun dried up any wits you may have had, Jaime? What in the name of the Seven are you _doing_?”

Jaime gave Brienne a private, rueful smile and turned to face his sister.

“Is this woman your companion or your hostage, Cersei? If you expect her help, you cannot carry on treating her like your prisoner.” Jaime rubbed the back of his neck. “And if we’re going to go after the treasure, I’m going to need your help.”

Cersei eyed him suspiciously, her cheeks still flushed from their argument. Jaime kept his face straight, but Brienne could see the tension around his mouth, the way he tapped his hook against his leg. He used to drum his fingers, back when he had them.

“You remember Addam Marbrand?”

“What of him?”

“He lives on this island.” Jaime’s face was thoughtful. “I need you to go to him and convince him. He’ll help _you_ but he will not just allow me to make off with the bounty we have hidden here. It’s meant to belong to all of us.”

“What makes you think I would care to do that?”

“Do you want the fortune or don’t you? Addam will offer protection I no longer can.” Jaime held up his hook again and flashed an ironic smile. “Besides, you know he always fancied you when we were children—” Brienne could have sworn she saw one corner of Jaime’s mouth twitch, “—so he’ll listen to you.”

Cersei stared at him, her perfectly sculpted mouth upturned with obvious displeasure. She still seemed to not quite believe Jaime, but Brienne wondered what choice she really had? It should be obvious enough that Clarence Crabb’s fabled treasure would be heavily guarded and Jaime could hardly defend them as far as Cersei knew. Privately, Brienne hoped Jaime had gotten better with his swordplay.

“Do you not have a map? A pistol?”

Jaime snorted. “No and _no_ , I’m afraid.”

Cersei’s face tightened and she flexed her fingers against her hip.Brienne was reminded again that the two were twins, sharing mannerisms and habits without seeming to notice. Jaime had never made his relationship with his sister a secret, had never bothered to deny it once the rumors had arisen. Cersei, though… Brienne knew too well how Cersei’s denials and rejections and betrayals had hurt him.

Brienne had caught him on the deck of their ship one night with a handful of letters and, uncharacteristically, a bottle of rum. She had watched as he would read a letter, take a pull from the bottle, then throw the letter into the water. When she’d asked him what he was doing, he’d been defensive at first, but with enough silence and enough patience, he had told her the truth. His sister had started writing to him again. Her husband had died and she was being ousted from her position as queen. She had wanted Jaime’s help, and he had decided he would not.

They had sat in silence half the night until, lying on their backs. Brienne had warmed from the bit of rum Jaime had convinced her to try, disbelieving that she had been at sea so long having never even tried rum. After a while, he had lifted his good hand toward the stars and pointed out the Warrior, a constellation she had known since childhood. “ _He has your eyes_ ,” he’d told her quietly. “ _Starlights_.” Then he’d turned his head and looked at her intently, his own green eyes glassy from drink. Brienne had flushed deeply when she saw him in the morning, and he’d averted his gaze across the breakfast table. It had only been the rum, she had told herself. For more than a year—until he’d knocked on her door and demanded an answer to an impossible question—she’d convinced herself it had only been the rum.

Cersei glanced around toward the door, her eyes narrowed. “What if I get lost? Would you even _care_ , Jaime?”

“Cersei, don’t be dramatic. When you find him, just tell him that he’s the only one who can help you. Tell him you’ve always loved him, always missed him, and you’ve been searching for him for _so long_.” There was a bitter edge to Jaime’s voice, his words deliberately chosen as though he had pulled them from deep within himself, from a place where the wounds Cersei had given him had left scars.

“Why should I trust you?”

“Cersei. It’s _me_.” He reached out his hand to cup her jaw. “Nothing else matters.” Cersei seemed to settle, and Brienne seemed suddenly to want to vomit.

She nodded her head, her eyes wide and perhaps even a bit wild. “Alright. If you’re certain this is what will work.” As she made for the door she looked Brienne up and down, starting with her worn leather boots up to the top of her head where lank and unmanageable hair sprouted from her scalp. “No more flowers while I’m gone though.”

Jaime stepped closer to the window to watch his sister leave and, apparently once satisfied that she was far enough away, he rounded on Brienne. Instead of immediate ire, however, he glanced to Brienne’s hip and smirked with familiar glittering eyes.

“She didn’t even take your sword.”

Brienne blinked, rested her fingers against the lion’s head instinctively. “Oh.” The gold was cool under her touch. Her captor had not even asked. “No.”

He stared at the sword a moment longer then said, “so let’s have it. What in all hells are you doing with Cersei?”

Brienne drew back with a glare. Some foolish part of her had expected a return of the gentleness he had shown her in the brief few seconds when he’d handed her the flowers. She glanced down at the long stems with blue petals, still held in her hand, but was unsure what to do with them.

What _was_ she doing? The last couple of weeks felt like a very strange dream.

“I needed a larger crew,” she said slowly, trying to mentally arrange the pieces of the story. “Podrick—the innkeeper’s ward—came into possession of Clarence Crabb’s treasure map—” She cut herself short, biting her bottom lip.

“That does not make any sense, Brienne,” he said with annoyance.

“Don’t interrupt me and perhaps I’ll explain it to you.”

Jaime’s face broke into a sudden crooked grin at that, which only added to Brienne’s own mounting agitation. He had been gone from her life so long, had been the one to leave without a proper goodbye, and yet he stood there grinning and judging like he had any right.

She wanted to tell him as much, but he just kept looking at her with such amusement that the words would not come. Crickets chirped outside the open window. Frogs sang their throaty songs somewhere in the distance. “I didn’t know she was your sister,” she said instead.

“Well, she did try very hard to hide it.” His smooth voice dripped sarcasm.

“Jaime. Please be serious.”

“Do you think I would _jest_ at a time like this?”

“I do. Very much, in fact.”

Jaime straightened and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This has been a hell of a day,” he muttered, beginning to pace up and down the small sitting room. The floorboards creaked under his bare feet as he padded from the window to the ill-fitting bedroom door.

Brienne watched him, hoping he would say more, that she could just be silent. But he kept his eyes trained on the floor and his hand at his chin. She heaved a sigh that he did not seem to notice and resolutely began to tell him her story.

Halfway through, Jaime seemed to realize he had been pacing and sat himself down in one of the two chairs by the window, gesturing for Brienne to do the same.

She hesitated for just a moment, her eyes flitting toward Jaime’s before scrambling into the chair. It felt nice, she had to admit, to sit next to him again. She wondered for a moment when last they had done this. She recalled quiet nights spent together on the deck, Jaime startled awake by nightmares he would not speak of, Brienne constantly worrying about him under the guise of her own sleeplessness. She could not deny the part of her that wished she had not turned him away. How many nights like this, alone together on a quiet night, had she sacrificed for her career?

When she was silent for too long, Jaime nudged her arm with the blunt side of the hook and gave her a meaningful look.

She had come to the point in her tale where Cersei, still calling herself Taena, had had Brienne knocked unconscious. Jaime had been unable to meet her eye when Brienne had retold that particular bit, but he had remained silent.

“When I awoke, I was on the shore with Cersei and she was demanding I give her the map. I think Aurane must be on the other ship, that maybe he sent Cersei away to get us both out of the way. Jaime,” she looked up into his eyes, holding them seriously, “I don’t believe Waters meant to share his findings with Cersei at all. He must have thought….”

Brienne trailed off, feeling her cheeks and ears burn red. Jaime prodded her with a curious “yes?” and she took a deep breath, shaking her head. “I think she might have been trying to seduce the map out of me.”

Jaime stared, and she expected him to laugh or make a joke of the situation. _Who would want to seduce Brienne of Tarth?_ But instead, he set his jaw, eyes ferocious. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Brienne’s heart swelled at that. He’d always managed to surprise her.

“Do you truly not have a map?”

Jaime huffed a laugh. "Do you truly think I _need_ a map? Crabb was not as skillful at hiding his treasure as he seemed to think. I stumbled across it ages ago. There's not much of it left."

"So it's—"

"Gone, yes."

Brienne's stomach knotted. She once again glanced around at the cottage Jaime called home. How many of his possessions had been pilfered? How much had belonged to someone else? So many questions hung in her throat but she was interrupted by Jaime's dash back to the window.

"Torches," he said grimly. "Your ship seems to have anchored." He turned to look her up and down, halting at his sword on her hip. "Do you still know how to use that thing, or have you gone rusty without me?"

Brienne bristled, gripping the pommel. "Worried you might need protecting, Captain Lannister?"

Jaime smirked. "Hoping," he said with a flourish before grabbing his own sword and dashing out the door. Brienne could only follow.

The moon was full that night, but even still all Brienne could see along the shoreline were silhouettes cast in shadows. The torches flickered and blinked in the warm breeze rolling in from the sea. She held Oatheeper in her right hand and to her left, Jaime wielded a similar, shorter sword she had never seen him with before. It at least looked like Lannister gold and not a weapon he had pillaged. The sight of him next to her—the muscles of his chest and arms as taut and ready as a coiled spring—sent a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the climate from her scalp to her toes.

 _This is where we belong._ The thought was like a battle cry, if battle cries could be lullabies. She tightened her grip on her sword.

Brienne and Jaime crept along in darkness, keeping to the clusters of palms and pines that stood sentry throughout town. When they passed the little blue house at the edge of the treeline, the dancing of lantern light from inside caught Brienne’s attention, though no sound met her ears. She wondered what Jaime's plan had been for Cersei and Addam Marbrand. Or whether he even had one. Either option seemed just as likely. She and Jaime had served together for nearly six years, and Brienne had learned well their strengths and weaknesses: Jaime acted quickly but rarely foolishly, but Brienne had always been the planner. His methods had driven her insane, in the beginning, until she’d been forced to grudgingly admit that he sometimes seemed to know what he was doing.

They moved in a quiet tandem, taking turns covering one another’s back as they moved ahead. To Brienne, it felt as though no time had passed at all. Even with danger lurking so near, the thought made her heart ache with a sadness she had spent so long trying to bury. She swallowed it back down quickly enough, training her focus on the task ahead.

“Have you some sort of plan or shall we run shouting at them?” Jaime asked when they stopped near enough one another, shoulders pressed into neighboring palm trees.

Brienne shot him a glare. Truthfully, she did not have much in the way of plans. She had never quite learned to talk her way out of situations the way Jaime had always done, but she saw few options. The number of hands carrying torches and lanterns quite outnumbered the two swords they had between them.

“I’d missed that,” Jaime said with a smirk and an upturned chin. “That absurd little wrinkle between your eyes when you’re very cross with me.”

“I am _not_ cross,” she hissed, wary of being heard now they were so close.

Jaime ignored her. “Have you been this cross the entire time? Or is the return of the wrinkle a recent development?”

“Are you going to help or are you going to jest the entire evening? A boy’s life is at stake.”

Jaime’s shoulders dropped and his smirk slid into a frown so quickly it seemed to pull a sigh out of him. After a moment, he opened his mouth as though he wanted something to say, but he shut it again soundlessly. Their eyes lingered upon one another, a familiarity to the moment that made Brienne shiver even in the warm night air. In the silvery moonlight, his eyes were bright lagoons and the curls that swept across his naked shoulders seemed to glow.

“Are you ready?” she asked him, much more faintly than she had intended. A question from years past, from a previous life.

Jaime gave her a sharp nod. His expression was unguarded and determined. He looked at her as though she was his battle commander and he was her most loyal soldier. As though she had not spent her entire career beneath and, eventually, alongside him. As though she was someone worth looking to.

Without another word, Brienne stepped out toward the beach, Oathkeeper held at the ready, Jaime stood next to her, their shoulders touching. On cue, Brienne’s blood caught fire as every head turned their way.

The torches waved with the breeze from the sea. The tide rolling into the sand drowned out the voices of the people on the shoreline. Next to her, Jaime moved to stride forward, but Brienne pressed her fingers to the inside of his wrist and he froze in his tracks. Instead, they watched as silhouettes became people and the voices became words.

“...the big ugly blonde one…” one voice said clearly. The speaker seemed to be taller than the person they spoke to but even squinting Brienne could not discern who either of them was.

“Who do you imagine they’re talking about?” Jaime murmured, a smile in his voice that she would not dare look at him to confirm.

“You,” she grumbled back and Jaime chuckled.

“Aye,” came a second voice, the shorter companion. “I’d wager it’s that stupid beast of a woman.”

In the blink of an eye, Jaime’s wrist flew from Brienne’s grasp along with the rest of him as he launched himself forward. The group advancing toward them was only five or six people; the pair of them had faced twice that number in their former lives. They had had an extra hand between them at the time, however.

Jaime’s swordpoint was at the man’s chin with a quickness that even now, after years of serving next to him, took her breath away. It was almost inhuman how easily and speedily Jaime could corner an enemy. “Would you care to say that again?” he hissed.

Brienne sighed heavily and, sword held at a low ready, she joined him on the open beach. At a few paces away, she realized that she did indeed know this group.

“Asha.” The woman’s name rushed out in a thankful breath. Then, turning to Jaime, whose sword was dimpling the flesh of Boros Blount’s throat, Brienne gave his shoulder a gentle push. “Jaime,” she said, low. She repeated his name when he still did not move, this time a warning. “It’s fine.”

Jaime ignored her, his brow low and his jaw clenched. “Apologize to the lady,” he growled, shrugging Brienne’s hand off of his shoulder. The man made to reach for his sword but Jaime swiftly swatted his hand away with the flat of his blade. “ _Not_ an apology. Don’t think I won’t kill you.”

“Jaime, _stop_.” Brienne wedged herself between them, this time roundly shoving his shoulder as she did.

The shove was enough to force him to take a step back. His face was still tight with an anger Brienne was all too familiar with, his eyes still lingering on Blount. Slowly his gaze slid toward Brienne and she watched as the threads holding his rage in place slowly loosened until he looked properly chagrined.

“This is Boros Blount,” she said plainly, gesturing to the man. “He’s a member of my crew.”

Asha’s head whipped back as though struck. “Your crew?” she said incredulously. “He’s a bloody mutineering pirate! Helped bind us all and then dragged us here. We’d be dead if not for Snow’s little sister hiding in a barrel of apples. Little hellion set us all free while they weren’t looking and now we’re trying to decide what to do with them.” She unsheathed her sword.

Brienne’s stomach sank at the confirmation of her suspicions. Blount and Deem _were_ pirates. But Arya _had_ been hiding in the apples. Brienne could picture what seemed the likeliest scene: Arya wandering somewhere she didn’t need to be, hiding in the nearest barrel from voices she didn’t recognize, and accidentally overhearing a mutiny plot.

The thought of little Arya Stark having to save her crew while Brienne herself was out cold on a rowboat with Cersei Lannister made Brienne want to join Jaime in flaying Blount. But instead she loosened the grip she had on her sword and sighed. She could worry about them later. For now, Podrick would be their concern. Brienne was certain Aurane would have him.

“What’s happening here?” Jon’s voice, normally much quieter and calmer, boomed over the sound of the waves and the heavy breathing of the pirate they’d cornered.

Brienne covered her eyes with her free hand and in the same instant sheathed her sword. “Jon,” she said wearily, “how lovely to see you. Just having a chat.”

Jon grinned. “I see you’ve found our friends. He was working with Aurane, helped tie us up.” Jon didn't need to indicate his sword when he approached the other man. He only tilted his head slightly and smiled. "But he won't do that again, will you Boros?"

“Right.” Brienne glanced around at the other faces, but all the others were friendly and seemed unharmed. “Where is Waters? Podrick?”

Jon shrugged but Asha cut across, her sword still trained on Blount. “He took the boy in one direction and sent you and Cersei in another. I think Pod had the map.” Asha hesitated. “Brienne, I do not know the full character of this man, but if—”

Brienne shook her head. She knew what Asha would say next, that it would be a miracle if Pod was still alive once Aurane got his hands on the map. The boy seemed resourceful—the way he’d tried to find at the inn had been proof enough of that. Brienne would not give up on him.

"Jaime. I should like a word."

" _Jaime_?" Jon spun to face the other man, his boots making little mounds of the sand. "Jaime Lannister?"

Jaime grinned, but Brienne thought that it did not quite meet his eyes. He was the picture of smug arrogance, but below the surface Brienne could sense his apprehension, a man who would rather not have the spotlight cast upon him—not for this. "You’ve heard of me."

Jon squared his shoulders, a strange look on his dark, narrow face. "You brought in Aerys Targaryen. Everyone _knows_ you.They call you ‘Captain Hook’ these days, don’t they?” Jon’s voice was something along the lines of admiration, but his eyes dropped for a moment to the glistening metal at the end of Jaime’s arm.

“Yes, Lannister has done many _wonderful_ things.” Brienne cut across them and came to stand in front of Jaime; she knew too well how he usually responded to comments about his missing hand. She liked Jon too well to have him at the end of Jaime’s sword as well. “But we need a plan.”

Jon and Asha nodded in unison, but it was the feeling of Jaime’s gaze on the side of her head that held her attention. He wanted her to look at him, she knew. He’d tell her something with his eyes just as he once did, when they had been as close as was proper.

The crew was apprehensive to be working with a pirate captain, but eventually seemed to settle into the idea as they helped coordinate the effort to find Podrick and Aurane. Asha kept grinning at Brienne from across the circle they were standing in, and when Brienne gave her a look of total confusion, Asha laughed out loud. Even Jon seemed to keep glancing between Jaime and Brienne, his eyebrows rising toward his hairline when their shoulders would brush or they’d share a look that spoke only from one to the other. Brienne knew they made an odd pair.

As they began to disperse to go their separate ways into the island, Jaime waited for Brienne at the treeline as Jon pulled her aside.

“Brienne,” he said carefully, his eyes an intense gray storm. “He’s a pirate.”

She didn’t need him to explain what he meant, but she only shook his head. “I know what he is, Jon. I’ve _always_ known what he is.”

Jon dropped the hand he had placed on her arm and they both glanced up toward Jaime. He was frowning, his thumb hooked into his belt loop. When he caught her eye, though, he smiled the crooked smirk that had once annoyed her from her toes to the ends of her hair. Now it only made her chest bloom with warmth.

Jon was watching her face. When she met his eyes again, his smile was a little sad, a little too understanding. “Take care of yourself, Captain.”

Brienne smiled softly and then met Jaime’s gaze again. The few hours since she had so suddenly been reunited with him had left her little time to just _think_. Her feelings toward him were confused and conflicted. It had been a long time since they had been on the same side. In the intervening years, Brienne had come to realize that what she had felt for Jaime had meant _something_. But still, she had chosen her duty over him. It had not fully hit her what she had done, what she had chosen, until the morning after he had asked her to go with him. The ship was quieter, less spirited without him there. She had assumed she’d never see him again and so she’d spent the day in her quarters sobbing silently, confused by how much she missed him already. It had been one of her lowest points.

Yet Jaime was here before her again, watching her walk toward him with eyes unburdened by the worry and torment she had last seen in them. His smile was light and easy, less sharp and cutting than it had once been.

When she caught up with him, he knocked his shoulder into hers and sighed dramatically. “Ready to play the heroes yet again, Tarth?”

Brienne smiled wide, safe in Jaime’s presence to forget about her buck teeth. She knew she wasn’t yet able to cobble together her feelings about being reunited with Jaime. But she knew that no matter what they were doing or where they were going, they would do it well together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is _Slow and Steady_ by Of Monsters and Men.


	5. Jaime II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It was so easy for you to go.”
> 
> “No.” His voice was rougher than he intended. He reached for her hand and she did not pull away. “Brienne, whatever else you may think… It was not easy.”

_Now I see your face before me  
_ _I would launch a thousand ships_  
_To bring your heart back to my island_  
_As the sand beneath me slips_  
_As I burn up in your presence_  
_And I know now how it feels_  
_To be weakened like Achilles_  
_With you always at my heels_

_-_

The group split at the treeline. Jaime and Brienne had met Ilyn Payne while Asha and Jon and some of the others from Brienne’s crew had taken over positive control of the mutineers.Before going their separate ways, Jaime had been sure to warn them of all manner of dangers within the island: wild boar, snakes, unmarked holes in the ground where previous attempts to find the treasure had been made, drunk and wandering pirates. Then he’d drawn a map in the sand with a nearby stick to provide everyone with landmarks. No one had asked about the treasure, but Jaime had told them where Waters must be headed, assuming the map he had was correct.

Truthfully, Jaime wanted no part of any of this. He had been content on their island, happy to intercept navy ships and use the bounties to improve the lives of the people he’d somehow found himself tasked with caring for. But Brienne had made her intentions to find the missing orphan boy so clear that he knew that he would not be able to deny her in good conscience. He could never deny her anything she wanted. Up to and including letting her go.

But selfishly, Jaime also simply hated Aurane Waters.

When last Jaime had seen his sister, it had been at their father’s funeral. Cersei had been on the arm of the young sailor who, at the time, had been little more than a man grown. Bastard-born, Waters had nothing to offer but a pretty young face and whispered promises of fame and fortune on the high seas. Cersei had been recently widowed and recently done with Jaime; it had not taken much convincing for her to fall under Aurane’s spell.

Jaime had seen Waters for what he was then, and Waters knew it. But with his sister unwilling to listen to reason, all Jaime could do was leave her to a fate of her own making. He had not dreamed then that that fate would lead Cersei and Waters to Brienne, that they might hurt her. The thought of it made Jaime’s blood boil and he found himself wishing he’d killed the man when he had had the opportunity.

He glanced back at Brienne, who was eyeing Ilyn’s parrot warily. The sight made Jaime grin in spite of himself. He had always assumed that if he ever saw her again, one of them would be trying to kill the other. And yet here they were in the middle of a jungle with a man who could only speak through a parrot tracking down a missing child. Jaime really should thank the gods for his good fortune.

He knew the path well. The walk would likely take them at least half a day. They had made a stop at Jaime's cabin to collect supplies and so Jaime could pull a tunic over his head. He'd smirked at the way Brienne had blushed and spun around when he'd caught her staring as he pulled on the shirt. She might have denied running away with him, but Jaime had not been ignorant to the way she looked at him, even back then. Some part of her wanted him whether she knew it or not. It had pleased him endlessly to see that that at least had not changed.

In the darkest stretch of the night, just before the sun would creep over the horizon, Jaime stopped them in a familiar little clearing.

"We should rest," he said, looking at Brienne as the primary suspect for wanting an argument about it. "The day has been long and strange and a few hours of sleep would benefit us all."

Brienne pressed her lips together, the wrinkle of concentration he liked so well appearing between her eyes. "All right. But one of us should keep awake to stand guard. I think--"

"Yes," Jaime agreed before she could volunteer to sacrifice herself, "we should. But we can rotate. An hour or so apiece."

" _Me first_ ," Ilyn's bird squawked. When Jaime glanced around at him, the man’s face was curled into a toothless grin. Jaime cast him a quick, small smile, recognizing what he was doing. Ilyn allowed others to believe he was a villain, but Jaime had been stuck with the man long enough to take note of his occasional good nature.

Jaime slung the pack with their bedrolls attached to the ground and laid them out next to one another without thinking much about it. When he had finished, Brienne was staring at him.

"Don't look at me like that, wench," he snapped. "Wouldn't want those big cow eyes of yours to pop out."

Brienne glared and Jaime smiled at his handiwork. "I'm not looking at you any particular way," she grumbled, but Jaime didn't press it.

When they were stretched out in the thin, uncomfortable bedrolls, Jaime yawned and stretched his hand and stump behind his head. “I’m glad we’re in agreement,” he said quietly.

Brienne turned her head. Her face was so close Jaime could count the freckles on her nose. In the silvery moonlight, she seemed softer, like some giant goosedown blanket of a woman he would like to curl up into. It was peculiar to him that he had ever thought of her as anything other than _soft_. Her soft heart, her soft smiles, the surprising softness of her touch. A gentle maid dressed in the Warrior’s breeches.

“Agreement?” Brienne whispered.

“The bird,” Jaime said thoughtfully. “We both hate the bird.”

The subject of the conversation was presently pecking at the ground where Ilyn sat propped against a tree. Ilyn was stroking its back and watching with an enthusiastic glint in his dark eyes.

“I don’t--” Brienne started, then lowered her voice. “I have never said I hate the bird.”

Jaime laughed, watching with interest the way her furrowed brow relaxed some at the sound. “The difference between you and I, Tarth. Of course you hate the bird. You’d just never _say_ it.”

“And you always say what’s on your mind?” she said in a rush. Her eyes went wide, as though the words were meant to have stayed safely locked away but had come flowing out without any permission at all.

“I suppose not.” Jaime considered her.

He had certainly never told her any of the ways she drove him mad. Her stubbornness was like a particularly challenging puzzle he constantly wanted to have a crack at. It had simply never come up how well Jaime enjoyed provoking her, relishing in the way she’d try to hide a smile at the japes she pretended to hate. And that was to say nothing of the fluidity of her muscles moving beneath her shirt when she would swing a blade, or the way her thighs tightened and released with the pull of an oar. No, he’d never told her any of that because, well, how could she not know? Jaime had felt fairly obvious for years.

He supposed he could tell her now, but _now_ didn’t seem right either. “I sense some difficult thought bouncing around in that thick skull of yours,” he said instead.

“I hate when you say that.”

Jaime snorted. “Is that it?”

“ _No_.” She sighed and rolled away from him onto her back, staring up at the night sky. She clearly did not mean to tell him whatever it was she was thinking.

Jaime tried to follow her gaze, privately marvelling that they’d found their way back beneath the stars again. “Do you remember Ursa Major?”

“Of course I do.”

“Useless for sailing, you well know. But when everyone else is abed and it’s only me and the heavens…” he trailed off for a moment, hesitant of just how much he wanted to say before deciding to rush ahead into sincerity. The fact of the matter was she had not known what Jaime had felt was written plainly on his face. The _fact_ was he had never been wise enough to say the things she needed to hear.

He cleared his throat. “When it’s only me, I look for the bear and her cub in the stars. She reminds me of you.”

There was a deep silence between them. Jaime tried not to look at her. If he did he might once again ask her to stay with him. And he was determined to not make her say no again. The first time had been sufficient to fill his life with enough regret for a man to drown in.

“I did not ask you to leave,” she eventually said, so quietly he might have imagined it. But she turned her face toward him and the truth swam in eyes as bright as the stars.

“I couldn’t stay.”

“It was so easy for you to go.”

“No.” His voice was rougher than he intended. He reached for her hand and she did not pull away. “Brienne, whatever else you may think… It was not easy.”

“Yet you managed.”

“Do you truly blame me?”

“I don’t _understand_ enough to blame you.”

Jaime took in her big, pleading eyes and her bitten lower lip. “We will talk,” he promised. “But for now you should rest. I won’t have you crabby with me in the morning because you’ve not slept. We have innocents to rescue.”

Brienne’s laugh was little more than a breathy puff of air against his jaw, but it made Jaime smile and long to pull her close all the same. And he would, by the gods. He _would_.

-

Jaime awoke to morning sun filtering in through the trees overhead. He stretched idly, not at all unaccustomed to waking up in strange places at this point in his career. It was only when he brought his bare stump back down and it grazed a human shoulder that he felt startled. The events of the previous day rushed back to him in the space of a heartbeat and he withdrew his arm quickly.

But too late: Brienne was blinking her way into consciousness. Jaime had a moment to admire her sleepy, unfocused eyes before realization washed over her, too. Her eyelids flew open and she sprung away from him as though bitten.

“Oh wench, you act as though you’d woken up to some terrible ogre,” he mused.

Brienne sat up and stared down at him with a sigh. “I wish you’d not still call me that.”

The shift in Brienne’s long-standing request was not lost on Jaime.

 _Still_.

In combat, Jaime had always had a knack for discovering his enemies' weaknesses, a trait he had no doubt inherited from a ruthless father. Some men were quick to parry but slow to strike, others relied overmuch on fancy footwork or strength. When Jaime had met Brienne, she had been just as big and ugly as she was now, but unwilling to let a scrap of personality shine through. Jaime had sensed the weakness like a dog on a hunt. So “wench” she had become to him, though upon their initial meeting it had been nothing more than an insult to her looks. Over time, he’d allowed a little more warmth to creep into the way he said the word and she had stopped correcting him altogether. Jaime had even come to believe that perhaps she even _enjoyed_ the game of nicknames they played.

Then he had used the stupid word in his stupid proposal and she’d rejected him with tears in her eyes that still felt like a knife in his belly, all these years later. Jaime was not certain where he and Brienne stood now. For all he knew she would arrest him and haul him in as soon as the boy was found. But he could understand what “still” meant. His little nicknames could only bring her pain now.

Jaime could only nod in response to her request. His throat felt too tight to speak. Across the little clearing, Ilyn and his bird were fast asleep in the early morning sun, the old pirate’s head leaned against the trunk of a large, round tree.

“Your guard fell asleep,” Brienne said, tilting her head in Ilyn’s direction. Jaime glanced toward her and nearly breathed a sigh of relief at the little smile on her face. For Brienne of Tarth, any crack in her dour wall of a face was a sign of good mood. Jaime truly did know her too well.

“Good thing for it,” Jaime said as he stood to go relieve himself out of sight. “We should have stopped to sleep properly sooner.”

When their encampment had been tidied and the three of them had shared a breakfast of stale bread, salted fish, and fruit from the nearby trees, Jaime led them back onto the path toward the center of the island. They walked in relative silence--relative because the bird would not shut up once again.

“ _Caaaaaptain Hook_ ,” it sang at seemingly random intervals and at others, “ _Ex marks the spot! Off we go! Ex marks the spot!”_ On one particularly mortifying occasion, he’d referred to Brienne and Jaime as lovers while making strangled noises that Jaime was fairly certain were meant to be kissing sounds, if parrots could actually make kissing sounds.

It was enough to make Jaime fall far back from Ilyn. He was pleased that Brienne trailed behind as well without seeming to notice that she’d arrived at Jaime’s side. Their steps fell in tandem, and Jaime recalled previous walks they had shared. Through port cities, scouting out shops and inns and all the best sights. On one memorable occasion, the pair of them had gone out with Addam and Ilyn and the rest of their crew. It had been an especially successful mission, and the others had all convinced Brienne and Jaime to drink, as the two of them so rarely did. That walk had left them laughing and stumbling on the way back to the inn, just off the coast of Dorne. Jaime had tried to play the gentleman, helping Brienne to her room, but he’d been no more sober than she was. She had let herself in just fine and left the door open for Jaime to join her without so much as a backward glance.

It had been an afterthought for her, and that was what had done him in. With such a simple action, Brienne had made him feel as though he belonged there in that room with her, as though her desire for his presence was the most natural thing in the world. He had had years to reflect on that moment now. And it had taken him far too long to admit the truth of it to even himself. But he could at least think to himself now it had been there, leaning in the door frame with Brienne’s back turned to him as she readied the bed, that Jaime had fallen quite unequivocally in love with the most mulish, most stubborn, softest person he had ever met.

Ilyn’s parrot squawked, pulling Jaime from his thoughts and dispelling the peaceful silence that had fallen between them.

“When did Payne get the bird?” Brienne asked quietly.

“Won him in a card game in Braavos probably two years ago. I must say, I preferred him as a mute.”

“ _Jaime_ ,” she scolded, scandalized, and Jaime grinned.

“Did you not once say you loved me for my honesty?”

“You know I never said anything of the sort.”

Jaime hummed skeptically and reached out his hook to lift the broad leaves of a banana tree out of Brienne’s path. She ducked under and Jaime followed, deciding that he would not think too much about what he was saying or why he was saying it. Perhaps that had always been the problem.

“You didn’t have to.”

“What?” Brienne’s thoughts seemed to be elsewhere, her voice distant.

“You didn’t have to _say_ it.”

That seemed to catch Brienne’s attention. She whirled around on the heel of her tall leather boots. Her face was arranged in the shape of pain and frustration. “Do not jest. Not now. Not after--” She broke off, biting her lip.

“Yes?”

“Everything that’s happened.”

Jaime studied her for a moment. He wanted to ask again. To fall to his knees and beg, or draw his sword and demand. Whatever it took. But he dropped his eyes when he remembered that she had answered him years ago and he had no right to presume her answer had changed.

He was spared another thought by rustling in the path just up ahead. Twigs breaking and pebbles crunching under someone’s feet. He glanced back up at Brienne and soundlessly they each drew their swords.

Ilyn had turned as well, his rapier held at the ready. Jaime had just enough time to consider that the parrot seemed to only stop talking when danger was present. At least the animal had sense enough for that. But then a familiar pair stumbled into their path, one of them far worse company than a parrot.

Cersei had a pistol lodged in Addam's back. For his part, Addam grimaced as Cersei shoved him forward.

"Oh hello, Jaime."

"Cersei. A pistol?"

"Aurane has all manner of new technology at his disposal. He's quite wealthy."

"You don't even know how to use that."

Cersei made a simpering noise. How was this woman the one he'd once devoted himself to? There was nothing to love there, no innocence or gentleness or warmth.

"Would you like me to prove, dear brother, how well I can use it? Perhaps our beastly friend would be willing to volunteer?" Cersei's eyes flashed toward Brienne, and Jaime understood in an instant that Cersei _knew_.

His sister had no sooner raised the pistol than Jaime had looped his hook into Brienne's belt and dragged her roughly behind him. It seemed appropriate to Jaime that he had come into the world clinging to Cersei and now she would be the one to pull him away But more than even that, Jaime had decided in that split second that he never should have let Brienne of Tarth go, that his place had always been and would always be by her side.

The loud crack of a shot fired followed immediately by a scream rent through the sticky inner-island air and Jaime was surprised to find that it was not his own. He wrenched open one eye and was even further surprised to find Ilyn’s stupid bird clawing at Cersei’s hands and pecking at her forearms.

“ _Rude!_ ” the bird shouted, its beak in Cersei’s face and its wings flapping with agitation. “ _Very rude! Rude bird!_ ” It pecked at Cersei again. “ _Captain Hooooook!_ ”

Jaime stared, slack-jawed. The bird was _defending_ him. After a beat, Addam and Ilyn stepped forward to pull the parrot away from Cersei. Jaime turned to Brienne.

“She got a shot off,” Jaime said, dazed. He ran his hand over her face, looking her up and down and having her spin in a circle.

Brienne stepped away from him. “ _Pistols_ ,” she muttered. “Horribly inaccurate.”

Jaime tilted his head, taking her in. He had to laugh. “Horribly,” he agreed, his lips stretched so far in a grin that his cheeks ached from it.

Brienne returned his laugh with a delightfully wide smile of her own, but only for a moment. Remembering herself, she shoved him in the shoulder hard enough to knock him off balance.

"You could have been killed, you idiot."

"Gods, how embarrassing that I didn't even think of that."

"When you've quite finished gazing into one another's eyes," Addam shouted over the sound of rustling feathers and Cersei's impatient demands that someone murder the parrot.

" _We are not gazing_!" Jaime and Brienne said in unison.

With a huff apiece, they helped to disentangle all involved. When the bird was safely back on Ilyn's shoulder and no worse for wear, Brienne stepped forward to gently take Cersei's arm in her large, capable hands.

"Jaime," his sister said in a low, dangerous tone. "Get your gargoyle _off_ of me."

"Alright," Brienne said, not releasing her grip. "Enough of that. I can tend to these scratches or you can leave them open and unclean to fester. Which would you like?"

If Cersei had been able to mortally wound with just a look, Jaime was certain Brienne would have stood no chance. But his wench was at least able to give as good as she got and Cersei dropped her eyes. "Hurry up, then."

Brienne nodded and set to work using her skein of water to rinse the wounds and cutting strips of mostly clean, mostly dry cloth to dress them.

"There," she proclaimed when she was finished. "Now you can help us find your husband."

"That buffoon is not my husband. And I wouldn't help you find him whether he was or not."

Brienne's face appeared calm as a spring morning on the surface. But her lips had pressed together to form a thin, white line and her jaw was set. To Jaime she looked like a steel trap ready to spring.

"You stole my ward--"

"As though you wanted him for anything more than the map," Cersei interrupted but if Brienne even heard her she didn't let it show.

"You lied to me. You helped the crew I'd hired tie me up and made no move to help once we were cast off the ship together. And if that weren't enough, you tried to shoot _your own brother._ "

Jaime could only watch as Brienne seemed to grow even taller like some fabled giant bear on her hind legs, ready to strike.

"Well get it over with then." Cersei's words were clipped but fear had edged in.

Brienne raised her eyebrows, amused. "I’m not going to _hurt_ you. But I will take any information about Waters you have.”

“I don’t know anything about his stupid plans,” Cersei spat. “He told me _you_ had the map and sent me off with you.”

Jaime crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “Your trust in the untrustworthy proves as constant as ever, sister.”

Cersei opened her mouth, no doubt some cutting insult on the tip of her tongue, but Brienne encroached into Cersei’s space a little more. His sister’s eyes flitted up toward Brienne and Cersei closed her mouth again.

Once apparently satisfied that Cersei had been stared down long enough, Brienne turned to the others in the group. “Captain Lannister and myself will continue looking for Podrick. Since only one man cannot seem to manage this woman, both of you can escort her back to the village.”

Addam and Ilyn exchanged knowing smirks, looking between Jaime and Brienne like they were in on some secret that he and Brienne were not privy to. Then they made quick work of ushering Cersei back down the path they had come from.

When Brienne turned her attention back to Jaime, he had to snap his jaw shut and recompose himself. Her fierce determination always seemed to shake the foundations of his entire world.

"You know the way?" she asked softly, not quite meeting his eye.

Jaime grinned. "I would not lead you astray."

Brienne rolled her eyes but she let him take the lead as they pressed onward. Jaime wondered what he had ever done that the gods might guide her back toward him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is [Ghost](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZ3jysAh0QQ) by Indigo Girls.


	6. Brienne IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I _wanted_ you to say yes! I _wanted_ you to marry me."

_Come with me_  
_My love_  
_To the sea_  
_The sea of love_

_-_

The island was beautiful and Jaime was an excellent guide, Brienne had to admit. Instead of talking about the myriad things they probably _should_ be talking about, they instead spent much of their walk discussing the local flora and fauna.

Giant leaves hung overhead, grazing lazily against Brienne's hair as they walked. She noticed that although Jaime's muscles were tense with frustration, he lifted each leaf and branch and vine that obstructed their way with a care that might have surprised a younger Brienne, fresh into the navy. Jaime had made it clear that he cared about the island and its inhabitants. Brienne was learning that he meant it: from his friends in the village to the ferns on the ground to the lizards in the sand to the palms and evergreens stretching toward the sky. She had never known him to care about anyone or anything who was not family.

"How much saving do you suppose this lad needs?" Jaime asked when the sun was high in the sky and he'd undone his shirt until it dipped down to his navel.

"What do you mean? He's no more than one and ten, perhaps two and ten at most." She couldn't keep the nervous edge out of her voice, some part of her still afraid Jaime would change his mind about her and leave again.

"There's a river that runs through the island from east to west. It isn't the Trident but not far from here, there's a waterfall bigger than any you've ever seen."

"We have waterfalls on Tarth, Jaime." She thought back to her home island, wondering how her brother was faring as Evenstar. Galladon had always encouraged her to live by the sea for as long as Brienne felt called to it. Few women in her position had such men in her life and she knew she was lucky for it.

"Certainly you do. But not this one." Jaime sighed, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "Remind me to show you once we've rescued the boy and sent my sister and all these bloody opportunists packing."

Brienne agreed and only when Jaime grinned slyly at her did she realize what she had accepted. Her face burned red at her misstep.

"You could, you know," Jaime said into the humid silence after a while. "Stay. If you wanted to."

Brienne stopped in her tracks, standing stock still until Jaime realized she was no longer trailing behind him.

"Relax, Brienne, I'm only teasing. I know you'd never be interested in trading your commission for a life of buccaneering." The remnants of the smile still lined the corners of his mouth and eyes but his voice betrayed his annoyance.

"I don't appreciate your teasing."

"Yes, I can tell how much you hate it by the way it makes you smile and blush like a school girl." He was smiling, but his eyes were hard.

"This isn't funny, Jaime. I didn't come all this way to jest with you."

A muscle worked in his jaw. "No, you came all this way to steal our gold. Very respectable."

Brienne puffed out her chest and tilted her chin involuntarily. "You have no right to that fortune."

They were in one another's faces now. Brienne could see each individual bead of sweat at Jaime's temples and in the hollow of his throat. She had not intended to have this conversation _now_ , but there was no helping it. They’d arrived at the boiling point.

"I never thought you would sink so low as to plunder, Jaime. You didn't need the money, so why are you doing this?"

" _Plunder_?" Jaime's eyes flashed. He licked his lips and dragged stray hair back from his forehead with his palm. "You want to talk about plunder, Brienne? Alright." He scraped the flat side of his hook along his beard and his chest rose and fell heavily. "I know the Royal Navy seems like some _calling_ to you--" the way he spat the word, as though it was some foolishness he could not understand, made Brienne's jaw clench with anger.

"It isn't like that," she ground out.

"Then what _is_ it like? If it wasn't the navy you loved so much, why didn't you come with me?"

There it was at last, floating in the heavy air between them. The vulnerable sadness beneath Jaime's anger seemed to weigh the moment down like some burdensome creature neither of them could corral alone. The sight of him, looking older and more tired than she'd ever seen him, dampened some of Brienne’s own anger.

"What did you want me to say? You asked--you asked me--" Her throat was suddenly tight, and she wasn't sure if she could get the words out.

"I _wanted_ you to say yes! I _wanted_ you to marry me."

They stared at one another for what seemed an eternity. She knew that; his proposal was hardly something she would ever forget for as long as she lived.

" _I can't_ ," she had told him those long years ago. " _My place is here_." With little left to say, Jaime had walked away from the Royal Navy and out of Brienne's life for what she had thought would be forever. But then there he had been, silver hook raised in a wave from aboard the famed pirate ship, The Lion's Paw.

Now here he was before her again, as though no time had passed at all. His hair was longer and he'd exchanged his uniform for more leisurely attire, but they still danced the same dance they always had.

Images flashed in Brienne's mind of things she would never have, things she had never allowed herself to consider: standing across from Jaime in a sept with that private smile on his face he reserved just for her; sparring with him at Evenfall; chasing rambunctious children with waves of golden curls and mischievous grins. A physical ache bloomed in her chest.

She looked back up at Jaime, aware and uncaring of the fresh tears beginning to prick at her eyes. "The navy was not my calling."

His face softened. "Then what?"

Brienne bit her lip, trying to decide her words carefully. But the words wouldn't come.

"Brienne." He took a confident step toward her. "What do you _want_?"

She was not sure anyone had ever precisely asked her those words in that order before. She was not even sure that she had asked them of _herself_ before. Her life had always been about duty. Duty to her family to marry and live the life expected of her as her brother's heir. Duty to the navy to perform all tasks asked of her. Duty to the crewmen assigned to her, to care for them as though they were her own flesh and blood. Jaime had asked her to marry him after several years of serving together culminating in more than a year of intensely close friendship. She had barely entertained the notion of whether or not she wanted to accept him. She simply knew that she could not.

The only problem now was that she was not certain that it was still true. When Jaime had left, he seemed to have taken everything she loved about the navy with him. She had been left with a bitter taste in her mouth and a uniform she hated to see when she caught sight of her reflection. Brienne did not need him to point out to her the flaws in the navy’s operations. The way her targets seemed more like merchants just trying to make a living and less like bloodthirsty pirates. And so much had been swept under the rug, from attacks on serving women by navy men, to the way Jaime had been outright ostracized after the loss of his hand. She had seen the underbelly of the Royal Navy and she knew that she did not like it.

But she had sworn an oath.

Brienne inhaled deeply and met Jaime's imploring green eyes with a steady gaze. “I just want an answer," she told him.

Jaime scowled with confusion.

“Why are you here?” she asked again.

"I'm needed here," he replied as though it were obvious. "The Royal Navy took everything these people had. _I_ got it back. We built this town from the bottom up. It's mine. Not my father's, not the king's, not any admiral's. Mine."

Brienne exhaled heavily, the pieces slowly sliding together.

"You really don't see it, Brienne?" His voice dropped to a low, almost pleading whisper. "You spent all those years pointing out 'the smallfolk this' and 'the smallfolk that.' Did you mean none of it? I'm here because of _you_ , and yet… you still wear that uniform. You still uphold everything they stand for. I hate it. Of course I do.”

The silence between them stretched out, on and on as crickets chirped and a breeze cut through the day, as fierce and hot as Jaime's eyes. She tried to force herself to meet them but she was afraid that if she did they would burn her with their accusations.

When they had met, Jaime had been aloof, disinterested in any cause that did not bear his name. Brienne was not so naive that she couldn't see how he'd changed since they'd met. But he'd never spoken so freely on the subject before. Now she stood alongside him and he thought to judge _her_. His accusation stung. Her oath--surely he understood her oath. _Surely_ he would not hold her vows to serve the king against her if she could just remind him.

None of those words seemed right, however. She was tired of saying them anyway; to Asha, to Jon, and especially to herself.

Instead the truth cut lamely across her lips. "I wanted to leave."

Jaime's face remained stern even as his voice gentled. "It isn't too late."

Brienne's heart seemed to jump into her throat. An old question was buried beneath his words. She'd been terrified by them the last time Jaime had uttered them. Casually, as though on a whim or as part of some especially cruel joke.

The night had been especially dark and clouded. She could barely see his face as their ship rocked along the waters, but she could hear the laugh in his voice. " _How opposed would you be to a bit of a marriage, Tarth? We’ll jump ship now and marry on the morrow. You can be the pirate queen and I'll be your fastidious sword wench_." His teeth had glowed in a confident smile, but Brienne had felt frozen in place, barely able to get another word out.

"What would we do?" she asked him now, hearing in her voice the crack in the walls she'd built around her.

Jaime tilted his head to the side, bright and soft. "What's right."

He reached for her, the calloused pads of his fingers tracing circles against her weather-beaten cheek. His gaze was intent upon her, and Brienne felt as though her entire world had narrowed. All she saw, all she could see and smell was Jaime Lannister, pirate captain and love of her gods-damned life. Jaime smiled his crooked little smile as though he could read her thoughts, dipped his chin low and--

Leapt away at the crack of a gun.

" _Fuck_ ," Jaime hissed just as Brienne came to her senses enough to drag him down to the dirt and into the treeline. "That was going to be an incredible kiss," he grumbled.

"Kiss?" Brienne said, more startled that he would say something like _that_ aloud than that they’d just had to duck for cover from gunshot.

"Yes, wench. What did you think, that I was going to check you had nothing in your teeth?"

Brienne stared at him, her ears ablaze.

"Eyes forward, Tarth. Someone's shooting at us if you'll recall."

Brienne swallowed hard and reluctantly dragged her eyes away from Jaime’s. She tried fruitlessly to rein in her thoughts where they had wandered toward what it would be like if Jaime really did press his lips to hers. She was no stranger to the warmth of his body or the way his perpetually tensed muscles would relax in sleep. She’d memorized all his smiles and she often knew when his temper would flare before Jaime himself would. Brienne knew so much of him, but the possibility of his mouth seemed to unveil to her new territory that she had never known she might one day explore. She wasn’t quite sure whether to be terrified or thrilled.

But then another _crack!_ reverberated through the air and Brienne was reminded that perhaps there were more frightening things awaiting her than a kiss from Jaime Lannister.

She touched the pommel of her sword, grounding her to the moment as it always did; renewing her strength. Even with Jaime directly beside her, his hip and shoulder pressed to Brienne’s own, she felt more connected to him with Oathkeeper in her hand. Then with a deep breath, she kicked her feet into the sandy earth and propelled herself forward, in the direction the gunfire had come from.

Jaime raised an arm like he meant to stop her, but then seemed to think better of it and instead hauled himself up into a crouching position behind the nearest tree trunk. He drew his sword and gave her a nod when she turned to look at him, his face suddenly very serious. She knew the routine: she would charge forward, he would cover her back and then they would rotate, just as they had on the beach the previous day. Just as they always had.

Brienne dragged herself over rocks and roots and little puddles of rainwater. Sand filled her boots and scattered down her tunic. Her breeches were soaking with mud and strands of soggy hair clung to her face and neck. Ahead was danger but behind was Jaime. It mattered not in that moment which paths they had taken leading them away from one another; once again they had converged to sacrifice it all if need be.

The sound of another shot rang in Brienne’s ears, much closer than last time and landing closer to her than she would have liked, spraying sand and dirty water out and up, close enough to land on her hands and face. She rolled toward a nearby tree, a great round specimen. No sooner had she taken cover than the sound of shifting sand caught her attention.

Jaime slid into the dirt next to her, hugging the trunk of the tree for support. "It's Aurane, just up ahead. You might have mentioned he has a pistol."

Brienne shook her head. She hadn't known he had a gun. "Horribly inaccurate, right?"

Jaime looked at her as though she was some unbelievable mystical creature, or perhaps he was just flabbergasted at her nonchalance. "You want to attack?" he whispered.

Brienne shrugged. "What else can we do?"

His grin spread slowly across his face, wide and blindingly bright. "You've come a long way from that 'safety first' young officer I first met."

"Yes, well." She couldn't help but return a wide, toothy smile in the face of Jaime's own. "Perhaps you've rubbed off on me."

"I certainly hope not," was all he said before hoisting himself up and offering Brienne his hand to do the same. "Alright Tarth. Into the unknown we charge."

With one last glance between them, charge into the unknown they did. A shot rang out but it landed somewhere behind and far to the left of them in an explosion of leaves and splintered bark.

Brienne seemed to spot Waters at the same moment as Jaime. He whispered "there!" just as she pivoted on the sandy jungle floor toward the man.

Waters wore a rich blue jacket and black tricorn. His cream-colored breeches were dirty but still the picture of fashion with his stockings pulled up into them. He was staring off to his right, eyes squinted and searching. He hadn't seen them yet.

Brienne scanned around for Podrick. When she didn’t immediately see him, she was sure she felt her stomach rise into her throat.

"I'm going to distract him," Jaime said quietly, so close that his breath tickled the shell of Brienne's ear. "You sneak around and get the pistol away from him. I know Waters; it should be easy from there."

"Are you sure--?" she glanced at his hook without fully meaning to.

"By the gods wench, you could at least _pretend_ to have a little faith. I've been working on it." He tapped the sheath on his belt where the sword that matched her own rested.

Brienne's stomach was truly in knots now. The last time she had seen Jaime with a sword, he'd been clumsy and weak with his left arm. She could only hope he had improved with time and practice. If anyone could learn to fight with their off hand, it was Jaime Lannister.

Jaime gave her a quick nod, and Brienne could recognize the hint of fear that had drawn his mouth into a crisp line and filled his eyes with worry.

"Jaime, wait." She grabbed a fistful of his tunic, preventing him turning away just yet.

He looked at her expectantly, a crease between his brow. Brienne realized she had no idea what she was going to say so instead she surged impulsively forward and brushed her lips against his. It was brief and foolish and wholly unlike her.

Jaime stepped away, placing a hand on her shoulder as though to maintain distance. She felt her stomach squirm unpleasantly. Had she misunderstood him earlier and made a complete fool of herself? Her body heated with a deep blush, as though it began in her belly and wound its way to her neck and cheeks and up into her hairline.

But Jaime grinned a little mischievously and inclined his head back to whisper into her ear again. "There will be plenty of time for kissing later, my lady. You do not send me to my death today, I swear it."

And with that, he stepped toward the young blonde man, drawing his sword as he went. Brienne couldn't watch. Instead she wasted no time traipsing carefully behind the trees. She circled widely around Waters, trying not to look at or listen to the scene unfolding before her. No matter what Jaime told her, no matter how lucky he had always been, she did not care to watch as he was shot to death.

She was almost directly behind Aurane when she heard an urgent whisper just ahead.

"Brienne!"

A child’s voice.

She dove behind the tree the voice had come from, heart in her throat. Sitting there ashen-faced and with his hands covering his ears was Podrick.

"I'm s-sorry," he said at once, big brown eyes pleading and scared. "I'm sorry I t-trusted him. I just wanted to help find A-A-Arya."

"Shh, don't worry," she whispered, crouching down next to the boy. "We're here to save you. Listen to me, Pod. Do you trust me?"

He nodded.

"I'm going to leave you here and help my friend capture Aurane. Come to me only when I call for you. I just need you to be very quiet. Can you do that?" She could hear shouting and the sound of a gun going off again, but she refused to turn around. There were still two voices. Jaime breathed still.

Podrick shook his head up and down and Brienne was again struck at how truly young the lad was. He had been through more than men twice his size and age in just a few short weeks. Brienne gave his shoulder a squeeze then set off toward the little opening in the old sandy trail where Waters and Jaime were squaring up.

The muffled shouts Brienne had heard were now distinct words that Brienne certainly did not want to hear.

"The rumors are true then? The _formidable_ Captain Hook fucks his own sister?" Aurane was reloading his pistol but his face was turned toward Jaime, who stepped nimbly toward him, sword at a low ready position. He looked ready to either attack or dodge, whichever need came first.

"Well, certainly never since the hook. You know Cersei, do you think she would have any interest in a cripple?"

Aurane laughed and Brienne winced. She recalled nights in the Riverlands that had seemed endless when she had begged Jaime to _just hold on_ , to think of the sister she knew he loved, think of the brother he had spent a lifetime trying to protect. Jaime had loathed himself in those days. He’d used that word for himself then-- _cripple_ \--as poisonous on his tongue as the infection in his blood. Now he brandished the word about self-deprecating mockery, as though he owned it and he alone could wield it.

"She certainly had an interest in finding you." He affected a high voice. "'Once we find _Jaime_ he'll help us get the fortune. If _Jaime_ were here we'd have it already." He sighed. "Is it any wonder I'd take over her daft schemes? She really thought you'd save her."

Brienne was almost upon the young mutineer now. Still he had not noticed her as she sifted through the sand on the toes of her boots. His pale eyes were instead focused intently upon Jaime.

“I must say,” Jaime drawled, pointing the tip of his sword toward Aurane as the younger man began to raise his pistol, “your talk of my sister bores me endlessly.”

It was just enough of a bold statement to make Aurane falter for the briefest moment. Jaime met her eyes with his own for just a second, and Brienne seized the opportunity. She lowered her shoulder and charged into Aurane, connecting with the left side of his body and sending him sailing into a thicket of vines and fallen branches to his right. The gun went off impotently, the bullet lodging into the ground far from either Jaime or Brienne.

“Shall we tie him up?” Brienne asked with a lilt of amusement. Jaime was standing at her elbow, both of them watching Aurane struggling to find his gun in the tangle of island plants.

“Wench, I’ll be honest with you: I would much prefer a duel to the death,” Jaime mused, his head cocked to one side and the blunt end of his hook scratching at his cheek.

“I have no doubt. But,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “I’ve found Podrick.”

Jaime’s head snapped up toward her. “Of course you have, you tenacious beast.” Words that might have once stung were but a familiar tease when coupled with his dazzling smile.

She didn't know what to say so she instead called for Podrick, just as she had promised. The boy came rushing to her side, slipping in the sand and leaping over rocks and ferns and tree roots. He halted at her elbow with such suddenness that sand flew into both Brienne's and Jaime's faces and they spluttered for a moment.

"Jaime, Podrick. Podrick, Jaime." She glanced toward Jaime nervously. She'd never seen him with a child before, and knew Podrick might not understand Jaime's particularly cutting brand of humor.

"Well met, Podrick. I hear you're quite the sailor."

"I had the m-m-map," the boy said quickly, "but I threw it in the r-r-river."

"Little shit," Aurane spat, beginning to rise up.

Jaime and Brienne both stepped forward to pin him back down, but Podrick leapt forward and kicked the man, hard, and he recoiled in submission, glancing between Jaime and Brienne.

"That's for A-A-Arya." Podrick looked up at Brienne. "Is she well?"

"She is. She was hidden away on the ship. She's with her brother Jon now."

Podrick beamed at that, nodding his head. It warmed her how well he had taken to the crew.

Jaime sighed. He looked deep in thought and distant. "Rope, then?"

She blinked. "I haven't got any rope."

"No rope in a search-and-capture mission? So you _didn't_ mean to take him alive." He chuckled and drew his sword to cut down several vines. Brienne watched as he slammed Aurane Waters to the ground and tied his hands and feet to the nearest tree.

"I was being held prisoner," she said indignantly as he worked. "If I could have just hidden away useful items I would have."

Jaime hummed, giving her sword a pointed glance.

"They tried to take it from me." She wouldn't meet his eyes. She knew whatever she saw there would only precede a joke of some sort. Oathkeeper had never been a joke to her and she could only hope it wouldn't be to Jaime either.

He stepped forward and lifted her chin with the curve of his hook, directing her to look at him anyway. "But you wouldn't let them."

Jaime's eyes were very much not teasing. Instead they were as scorching as wildfire, as intent on their target as they had been the day he had asked her--

"Why did you say no to me?" His voice dropped low, but still he held her chin steady even as it threatened to wobble. "Why did you _really_?"

Brienne's voice seemed to be caught in her throat. When she tried to speak, no sound came out. She felt ridiculous, but Jaime's expression did not change.

"I thought you unserious," she said after the moment of floundering had passed. When she had given him her reasons earlier, she had been reluctant to give him the full truth. _Thinking_ it was enough; bringing the thought out to the open was quite another. But after spending a day alongside him, she knew there was more to it than oaths to a cause she didn't believe in. He knew it too; he had always been able to see directly through her as though he knew her heart.

"You didn't think me serious," Jaime repeated slowly. His face seemed so singularly occupied with staring her down, Brienne feared that she had made him cross.

Jaime glanced down at Aurane, who was bound so expertly he could barely wiggle in his restraints. Then he looked up at Brienne, searching her face, and abruptly turned on his heel and walked away.

Brienne felt anchored to the spot, watching him go, not understanding what she had done wrong. She watched him walk away from her, and it hurt as much as the first time.

"Are you coming or not, wench?" Jaime called over his shoulder.

She didn't know where he was going or what he was doing, but the answer was easy this time. Easier than it ever had been. With a last glance at a defeated-looking Waters, Brienne strode after Jaime. It was not lost on her that perhaps striding after him was what she should have done the last time he'd walked away from her.

She caught up to him beside the river on a small sandy beach. In the distance she could hear the waterfall he'd told her of. The sun beat down on them from overhead and the breeze stirred up by the flowing waters smelled of gardenia and coconut.

But instead, and with no warning at all, he surged forward. His hook dropped to the waist of her beeches, tugging her so close to him that their bodies pressed together. His hand slid across her collarbone, up her neck, and into her hair. Without a word, Jaime pressed his mouth to Brienne's. He tugged her bottom lip between his own while he pulled their bodies closer together than ever they had been. She parted her lips for him on instinct and when he slipped his tongue inside, she found that he tasted as sweet as the figs they had had with breakfast. Jaime’s kiss was firm and determined, as though he intended to explain himself with only his tongue.

Jaime pulled back to draw a breath and when he spoke, Brienne expected anything but what he said to her. "Marry me," he demanded breathlessly, but didn't give her time to respond before ducking his head low to attack her lips with his own once more. "Stay with me," he said in his most commanding captain's voice, his breath hot against her mouth.

Another kiss, this one trailing along her jaw and neck with such fervor Brienne barely stifled a moan. She was lost to him. She always had been, in truth, and there existed no map she could use to find her way back again.

"I'll go with you, wherever you wish to go," he said into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against her skin. "Is this serious enough for you?” He pressed his lips into her flesh again, this time sucking and nipping lightly and Brienne felt her knees go weak. " I cannot be more serious. Speak the place and we'll go."

"That won't be necessary," Brienne breathed, surprising herself that she still had the capacity to formulate thoughts. Jaime's ministrations, both new and inevitable, were driving her mad.

He pulled away from her, and even in the humid air her skin was cool where his mouth had been. She found herself wishing he would cover it again, that he'd cover all of her. All this time, they could have had this, had she not been a coward. Had Jaime himself not done more to convince her.

Ships in the night they had been, never quite traveling the same direction. Their time together had been like the cacophony of flashing lights and warning horns. All action and excitement for the briefest of moments, only to sail on past again. Now perhaps at last they had come into harbor for good.

Jaime was still looking at her, their bodies still pressed together indecently. He had pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and his brow was slightly furrowed. He was worried, she realized. Worried she'd send him away again.

"Jaime," she said with so much fondness it surprised even her. She smiled and reached up a hand to caress his cheek and he leaned into the touch. "I'll stay. Yes, I'll stay. Wherever you go, wherever you are, that's always been home to me." She hesitated for just a second, mustering up her courage. "I'm sorry I've been gone so long."

Jaime grinned, leaning away from her though his arms encircled her waist. “Shall we wed on the morrow?”

Brienne laughed, more content that she had perhaps ever been. “Soon enough,” she promised, linking her fingers with his, marvelling at how easy it was to touch him now that she could.

He nodded and, hand in hand, they made their way back to the little orphan boy and the captured mutineer. Brienne led the way, and Jaime followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is [Sea of Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KEfNo-rHjyQ), in particular the Cat Power cover, if that kind of thing matters to you.
> 
> Just the epilogue (of sorts) left!


	7. Jaime III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A soft epilogue.

_You won't believe I saw it then so many years ago  
_ _There was something about you I struggled to forget_  
_My blood was rushing down to you  
_ _You were leading me back from the darkness like you do_

_-_

The sun seemed to shine just for Jaime, or so he thought as they wound their way back to the shoreline. The songs of the birds in the trees seemed a little clearer. The fragrance of the island blooms a little sweeter. Jaime had taken the same path time and time again to and from the heart of the island. He had always hated the briars and swatted without mercy at the gnats that congregated in the damp air. Not even they could spoil the intoxication of this trip. _She was going to stay_.

He and Brienne had their swords drawn and were walking side by side behind Aurane Waters. Brienne gripped Oathkeeper tightly in one hand and appeared to be on high alert, straight-backed and eyes forward. Jaime found her posture as amusing as ever and opted to walk with Widow’s Wail slung over his shoulder and his stride lazy, just to annoy her. It was when he began to hum a tune that she finally moved her eyes from Waters to shoot him a withering look.

“Do you do this on purpose?” she said, blue eyes twinkling.

Jaime turned his face toward her with a grin and bellowed the lyrics for her. “ _Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool_ \--”

“You have not changed at all,” she said wearily, but she still held back the broad leaves of a tree blocking their path for Jaime to pass through first before following.

“They should put you in plays, Tarth, with that penchant for melodrama.” He glanced sideways at her, his face serious. “I’ve changed considerably.”

Brienne sighed, smiling. “You have.”

They walked along in relative silence, Jaime having sheathed his sword so that he could occasionally make up reasons to touch her hand and face, thrilling when she did not pull away. Aurane’s hands were bound behind his back and Brienne kept control of him with a length of rope she held in her hand like a leash. The daft excuse for a pirate at least had the good sense not to talk. Jaime did not want his very good mood befouled and had not quite given up on the idea of running his blade through Aurane. He certainly would not forget what the man had ordered done to Brienne anytime soon.

After a while, Brienne nervously broke the content silence. “Jaime. I do perhaps have a problem with our ... arrangement.”

His eyes flashed toward her. “Problem?”

Brienne hesitated and glanced over her shoulder. Jaime followed her line of sight. The boy Podrick was following behind them, looking up at the palm trees high overhead and skimming his little fingers over giant taro leaves. A content smile lit up his narrow face.

“The boy?”

“He has no one else.”

Jaime chuckled “We’ll make room for your little ward, have no worries. Although--” he leaned his head closer to Brienne's and lowered his voice conspiratorially, “--there is an _urgent_ and _definite_ need for the lad to have a room of his own.”

Brienne’s face flushed immediately and Jaime grinned at how quickly she understood his innuendo. “By the gods,” she murmured, her grip on the rope tightening until her knuckles went white.

“You can't be too cross with me, Brienne. You've already promised you’d stay,” Jaime reminded her loftily. His heart felt too small for the flood of emotion that coursed through him when she laughed, deep from her belly, and shook her head.

The trek back to the beach seemed to take far less time than their journey into the island had. By the time the trees began to clear and they could smell smoke and food cooking, the sun was low on the horizon, painting the Narrow Sea gold and pink and allowing the sky to go restfully dark. Brienne’s ship was anchored just off the northeastern shore, dwarfed by _The Lion's Paw_ , but her crew was mingling with the villagers around a large, roaring bonfire.

“Going to feed me to the fish now, are you? Make me walk the plank?” Aurane said as they approached the festivities, Brienne scanning the faces in the crowd.

“Do I seem a cliche to you? Not a chance, Waters.” Jaime took the rope from Brienne and tugged it, causing Aurane to stumble backwards several steps, stopped only by the solidity of Jaime’s body.

“But I’d just as soon remove your head if you ever so much as _look_ at Brienne of Tarth again,” he whispered lethally, pressing the curve of his hook into the man’s back and shoving him forward again.

Brienne raised an eyebrow back at them, but Jaime only shrugged and gave her his best innocent look. She bit back a smile and turned toward him and Jaime was aware of how close her body was to his own. He thought--or perhaps hoped--that she might kiss him. Instead she leaned in and told him she was going to look for Jon.

“Certainly. But when we’ve sorted this all out,” his voice lowered, “you belong to me.”

A second blush from her in as many hours. The gods were too kind to him.

As he watched her go, Jaime desperately wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pull her back to him and never let her go again. How odd that he once had thought it tedious to have to spend a moment in her presence, yet now he did not want to part from her for another moment. They had saved one another out of necessity and obligation, for years in the earliest days of their acquaintance. But when he had lost his hand… Jaime shivered, remembering how he’d been deathly ill with fever, retching and soiling himself, and yet she’d cared for him. No matter what awful things he said to her, no matter how much he wanted to give up--wanted _her_ to give up on him--she cared for him. He wondered whether he had not given some part of himself to her even then, so many years ago.

Jaime pressed his way through the crowd, Waters marching ahead. Jeering and booing followed them, but Jaime ignored it until someone threw a bottle at Aurane’s head. It missed, but there was still rum in the bottle and it splashed across Jaime’s tunic.

“Alright, enough,” Jaime called, pulling Waters next to him and holding tight to the rope. “Enjoy your evenings. But no one touches the prisoners.” He looked from one set of startled eyes to the next. Even short a hand, Jaime knew his formidable reputation still held. His eyes locked on Addam Marbrand’s where he sat with Ilyn and some others.

Addam dropped his gaze, chastened. He shifted his attention toward Ilyn instead and he jerked his head in Jaime’s direction as he stood. Together they made their way forward to where Jaime stood with Waters, leaning casually against a tree while Brienne spoke with Jon Snow. His eyes were on Cersei, tied to a chair and guarded by Asha Greyjoy and Josmyn Peckledon, a young man who had come to the island with Jaime as just a boy. The sight of Peck--standing tall and serious with the proper sword of a man grown at his hip--filled Jaime with a queer sort of pride he had not before felt. It was as though having Brienne back in his life, truly _having_ her with him, had opened a well of possibilities he had not before considered. Cersei, though--Jaime knew he had no right to dictate what happened to Cersei. He would leave that to Brienne. At one time, in the depths of his bitter cynicism toward her, he might have hoped for the harshest outcome for her, but now the sight of her just made him sad.

“Good evening for it,” Addam said, pulling Jaime from his thoughts.

“ _Good_ ,” the parrot said, “ _Good job_.”

“Is that a compliment, Payne? How sentimental.” Jaime smiled lazily and Ilyn shrugged.

“Can we perhaps send this one away for a bit?” Addam gestured toward Aurane, whose magnificently dandy appearance had gone decidedly tired and unenthused.

Jaime’s eyes roved toward Brienne. Jon Snow’s face was almost as dour as Brienne’s. He wondered what they were talking about. From the faint frown and concerned glint in the man’s eyes, Jaime surmised he himself was the likeliest topic. It would have been easy to feel cross with Snow for his presumption to know anything about Jaime or Jaime’s history with Brienne, but he couldn’t think about that right now. All he could think about, instead, was the way her tunic stretched a little too tightly over her shoulders, the tight hug of the men’s breeches around her bottom and thighs. Gods but he had missed her.

Annoyed, he handed Aurane off to another of the young men Jaime had trained up himself, Hoster Blackwood.

“It went well, then?”

Jaime could do nothing to stop the grin that spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes and putting all of his teeth on display. “Very well.”

“Disgusting,” Addam said, giving Jaime a look to match. “But it took the pair of you long enough. The rest of us have suffered for ten years waiting for you to come to your senses."

" _Lovers_ ," the bird wailed.

After smiles and congratulatory punches to the shoulder had been exchanged, Addam's face grew serious again. "What are you going to do with the captives?”

Jaime sighed, placing his hand on his hip. “That will be up to Brienne. It’s her crew they mutinied.”

“But your treasure they attempted to steal.”

“ _Treasure!_ ” the bird agreed and Ilyn nodded his head. “ _Treasure, kill’em!_ ”

Jaime chuckled. He felt so light in spite of everything else. Brienne was going to stay. He could at last relax muscles that seemed to have grown tight in the four years he had been without her.

“What does she want to do?” Addam asked, and Jaime could understand the man’s anxiety. He was afraid Jaime would _leave_.

“After dumping the mutineers in the ocean, I believe she intends for us to move back to Tarth where she’ll have me act as a footrest for all of time,” Jaime replied seriously.

“Back to Tarth?” Addam asked. Ilyn was looking at Jaime expectantly.

“Don’t worry, Marbrand. I’m sure you’ll run this place fine without your invaluable captain.”

Addam laughed, high-pitched and nervous. He glanced out toward the rapidly darkening sea. Jaime enjoyed making his old friend squirm. It was, in fact, one of his favorite pastimes in particular since deciding to spend his life with the man on the high seas. Laughs had not been easy to come by. But he couldn’t in good conscience let Addam believe that Jaime would abandon him.

He glanced around again before answering, tapping his fingers against his leg anxiously. He half-expected Brienne to board her ship and sail away again while he wasn’t looking. But she was looking at him too, over Jon Snow's shoulder, and when their eyes met she smiled and dropped her head shyly. Snow followed her gaze and, upon seeing Jaime, frowned.

“Marbrand,” he intoned. “Addam. I’m not going anywhere. Brienne agreed to stay.”

“Oh.” Addam shared a look with Ilyn, both men appearing relieved. “Oh, that’s--well, I suppose we can put up with your tyranny a while longer.”

Jaime snorted and began to walk away. “You could say you’d miss me.”

“But you know I wouldn’t,” Addam called after him, a smile in his voice.

Brienne followed his approach with her eyes, a captivating glint in her eyes that had nothing to do with the bonfire. Jaime pushed his way through a group of men wrestling in the sand while a crowd around them shouted sea shanties and threw copper coins into a tricorn hat. On a whim, Jaime scooped up one of the discarded hats lying in a pile next to the wrestlers and tipped it onto his head.

Brienne had resumed her conversation with Snow, but her eyes kept darting toward Jaime and she suppressed a smile as she spoke.

"My lady," he said when he reached her, doffing the hat in a sweeping bow.

"Jaime," she said, properly grinning now.

"On a first name basis, are we, Captain?" he said, his fingers going to her waist like a pair of magnets.

Brienne watched with wide eyes the progress of his hand where it cupped her hip in a tight grip, pulling her toward him.

Jon Snow cleared his throat. "Captain Lannister. I'm glad you made it back in one piece."

Jaime hummed in acknowledgement, but he was intent on Brienne. He had only just found her again, had only just convinced her to be his after years-- _years_ \--without her, years of wanting and needing her. Jon Snow could sod off to any of the seven hells he liked.

But then Brienne's breath stuttered and she pressed her fingertips to the top of Jaime's hand, stilling him. "Jon and I were just discussing the ship."

Jaime groaned and let his hand drop. "Surely you don't mean to keep her. The ship is Brienne's."

Snow opened his mouth to speak but Brienne cut across him. "The ship is old." She bit her lip. "I've always admired _The Lion's Paw_. She's fast as a clip."

"Admired my ship, have you, wench? So busy _admiring_ that you could never catch me, was that it?"

Brienne scoffed and Jaime grinned and Snow rolled his eyes.

"I am leaving the ship with Jon. He has earned his captaincy tenfold in my eyes. He only needs the documentation and the ship to go with it. I can at least help with this."

Jaime nodded. It made sense. But he didn't care about that right now. He cared about getting Brienne alone. They could work out the details later.

Jaime was encroaching on Brienne's space again and Jon Snow made a sound of revulsion before walking away from them. He joined the girl who could only have been his sister in dueling Podrick with fallen tree branches, laughing when she knocked the boy to the dirt with a triumphant bellow.

"Our abode awaits us, Captain," he said, reaching out to her with his hook and pulling her toward him by the sword belt.

Brienne frowned and Jaime hesitated, watching her face. Perhaps he was being too forward for her.

"Forgive me, Brienne, I--"

"No," she said quickly. With a surreptitious glance around them to ensure no one was looking, she gently pressed her lips to his. Jaime's eyebrows rose several centimeters and his fingers tightened on her hip. "It isn't you," she whispered, noses nearly touching and sharing his breath. She drew her head back and held his gaze. "Jon is taking Waters and--and the rest--back with him."

"I assumed as much," Jaime said carefully.

"I've told him to use his best judgement in dealing with them, but…" She took a deep breath, her gaze seeming to fall somewhere in the direction of his right ear. "But the secrecy of your island shouldn't be compromised."

Jaime's eyebrows inched ever higher. He did not know Jon Snow, but it was not difficult to piece together what a loyal man of the navy might have in store for a group of mutineering pirates. Jaime had once been such a man himself and he knew too well what he would have done in Snow's place.

"You think I should talk to her." His voice was flat. He could think of nothing he'd like less in that moment.

"Do you think you would regret it if you did not?"

The nervousness had crept back into Brienne's voice and Jaime suddenly understood. The thought that he might want Cersesi instead of her was so absurd, so foreign to him now that he wanted to laugh. He turned his gaze briefly toward Cersei, still bound and guarded with Blount and Deem and the others but watching Jaime with a sneer. She still wore the tattered dress.

"Brienne," he said in a low voice, taking her hand and placing it on his chest. His heart seemed to flutter at having her so near to it. "She would have had you killed, and you are the most precious thing to me. There is no room in my heart left for her. There has not been for a very long time." His smile was slow and crooked. He placed her hand back down by her side and pushed the stray hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "You take up all the space, wench." And then he kissed her for good measure, aware for only a moment that his sister watched them before giving himself over entirely to Brienne.

When he pulled away, he searched her eyes intently. Wide, dark, and hungry. She touched her first and second fingers to her lower lip. Not taking his eyes off of her, Jaime took her by the hand and led her away from the crowd. No one seemed to notice as they skirted the edge of the festivities, matching long strides.

Once inside, Jaime kissed her as deeply as he had wanted to since the first time earlier in the day, backing her against the door before it had hardly even shut. She responded in kind, gripping the sleeves of his linen shirt and pulling him tight against her chest. Their tongues moved in tandem, giving and taking in equal measure. His hand went to her hair, pulling her down toward him.

Frantic limbs roamed pliant bodies and Jaime found his wench to be as strong and capable with him as she was with any sail or sword. After he had corralled her toward the bed, hovering over her naked and breathless, he bent his head toward her ear.

“We could wait. If you needed. I do know of other ways to please a lady.” He nipped at her ear and squeezed the thigh his hand rested upon.

Brienne uttered a breathy laugh, hot against his cheek. “We’ve waited long enough, Lannister,” she said softly, her hand coming up to touch his face.

Jaime grinned, not needing to be told twice. He pushed himself into her on a sigh, as slowly and carefully as two people who had not waited a decade to come together. Propped up on his shortened arm, free from the hook and watching the eyes of Brienne of Tarth as they claimed one another over and over, Jaime felt more like himself than he ever had before.

Hours later, they lay spent and tangled together. Brienne ran her fingers through Jaime’s hair, splayed loose across the pillows. Jaime had his nose pressed to her neck when he lifted his head to peer up at her.

"We'll find another ship for you,” he said. “You should always have a vessel of your own, as long as I have any say in it.”

"With what gold, if the Crabb fortune is all but gone?"

Jaime laughed, deep and relaxed and carefree. He pulled her leg over him and pressed his forehead to hers. Her face was open and soft, trusting. "We steal it from the Crown, of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this final chapter is [Horse to Water](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0_56joCt2Y) by Tall Heights.
> 
> Thank you first and foremost to Priorities Sorted/cobaltzosia for their fantastic prompts. The primary prompt was a pirates AU but I also considered that they said they're a book purist; prefer a shy and guarded Brienne, a Jaime who is a bit of an asshole but who can be soft if it's earned, a good supporting cast, angst with a happy ending; and that they also like Cersei. Hopefully I've done some justice to those preferences here!
> 
> Another thank you to my intermittent beta, [brynnmck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brynnmck/pseuds/brynnmck), who put up with my frantic late-night messages and set aside more time for me than anyone should ever ask for or expect with so much going on in this exchange. I also owe one of my better tags to them, heh.
> 
> The creators of this exchange are alright too, I suppose. :) Thank you for taking this on, and what a success it's been!


End file.
